


finding you through it all

by vannral



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fae & Fairies, Fever, Folklore, M/M, Protective Queenie Goldstein, Protective Tina Goldstein, Slow Burn, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: Newt is hit with a spell that makes him forget Credence.Includes suffering, heartbreak, supportive Goldstein sisters, folklore, and love.





	1. the lowest point

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooh, boy, let's see what kinda mess this fic will turn into :D  
> Plot multi-chapter fics are not my strongest point, BUT I'M DETERMINED TO PRACTISE.

_Tick-tock_

_Tick-tock_

Credence counts. _One-two. Three-four. Five-six._

_Tick-tock._

_Seven-eight-nine-ten_

Anything to keep him sane. His trembling hands grip skinny knees, _he can't stop shaking,_ anything to keep himself from bolting into a room in front of him. Into Newt’s room. But he’s not allowed in there - he’s in the way, healers can’t do their job with him hovering, so he keeps out.

Queenie places her hand on top of his. He can’t look at her - can’t look at her kind, sad face, can’t, it hurts, ‘cause Newt’s in there, and it’s _Credence’s fault -_

     ”It’s not, honey”, Queenie murmurs. Under all the softness, there’s steel, flashing like a knife. ”It’s _not_ your fault.”

Credence bites back hysteria rising in his throat. How can it not be his fault? He wasn’t fast enough, brave enough, he didn’t see the attack on time, and now Newt’s _suffering because of it!_

Queenie picks up on that thought - it tells just how rattled she is, her control is slipping. She opens her mouth to protest, when the door slams open and a tall, pony-tailed healer strides in.

     ”Newt Scamander’s friends?” she asks sharply without preamble or introductions, and Credence shoots on his feet.

     _”Yes!_ Is he – is he okay?”

The healer measures him, as if weighing whether or not she should tell him. _If he can handle it._ Cold dread pools into Credence’s stomach. _That’s not good._

The silence drags his frayed nerves, even though it lasts two seconds.

Later Credence can barely remember the details what she told them – him, Queenie and Tina. He remembers, however, the way Queenie stiffens.

He remembers how the healer’s displeasure, her personal feeling of failure, hangs like heavy cloud around them.

He remembers how the healer says: ”He suffers from selective amnesia.”

The words _burn_ themselves on Credence's brain.

     ”You can go see him, if you like, but I have to warn you. People think they are ready to see how their loved one forgetting about important things, but it still stings.”

Numbly, his heart thundering in his chest, Credence walks, _stumbles,_ into Newt’s room. Sick fear claws his guts. _No, Newt, Newt, please –_

_Maybe it’s mistake, maybe she’s wrong, right, it’s still a possibility, right –_

Credence stops.

Newt’s sitting on the bed, putting his cufflinks on.

It looks so painfully normal, Credence has seen him to do it countless times, so many times, _every morning,_ and maybe, maybe she’s wrong, right, it’s possible, _right –_

Newt’s face brightens.

     ”Tina, Queenie”, he greets them warmly, his eyes shining pale green, hazel even in these fluorescent hospital lights.

But then...it all goes terribly horrifyingly wrong, in a way Credence will later remember haunting him.

Newt’s gaze drifts to him...and there’s nothing. Absolutely _nothing._

No spark of recognition. No warmth.

Just...polite glass. Awkwardness because Credence _knows,_ he knows it deep in his bones, _Newt’s not comfortable with strangers –_

     ”Oh, hello. Who might you be?”

And with that, Credence’s whole world comes crashing down.

+

He can’t remember how he gets home.

Their home. Well, his and Newt’s house.

Credence feels too much and too little, does and doesn’t; it’s all too sharp, white-hot agony turns and tears, unravels him into something small, insignificant, and he wants to howl and scream and _cry, cry, cry –_

He’s dimly aware his breathing has grown harsh and uneven, into desperate dry heaves, burning his chest and lungs, and it’s not enough, Newt doesn’t remember him, it hurts, _and it’s his fault – !_

     ” – dence, Credence, you have to calm down – calm _down – !”_

He wants to scream. More than that, he wants to cry.

He falls limply, and strong arms wrap around him. A soft scent of lavender and coconut whiffs into his nose. _Tina._

Tina’s hands hold him, brush his hair, she whispers and murmurs to him, and he feels like breaking apart. Right now, he insanely wishes he could return into Obscurial mode, into shadows, where rage and agony made sense, where he could deal with this, tear and scream and _howl_ –  

He does none of those.

Instead he just clings onto Tina.

     ”He doesn’t remember me”, he gasps against her shoulder, hot salty tears staining the material of her blouse. ”He doesn’t remember me.”

     ”He will”, Tina says firmly. Credence isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. ”He will. The healers said it’ll take time, there are known cases of returned memories, it's _not_ unheard of. It’ll just take time, Credence.”

Credence grips her tightly and he trembles with silent sobs.

     ”I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t – what will I do? I – I can’t stay here. This isn’t – this is his place, I can’t be here – ” He’s babbling, just a stream of white noise, drowning everything, and he _just -_

Tina withdraws, her face pale, but kind, determined.

     ”Credence, honey”, she says softly and pats his cheek in such a motherly gesture. ”How ‘bout you come to stay with us. Me ‘n Queenie. At the country house. You know, for a while? Until his memories come back.”

_What if they never will?_

Credence doesn’t say it aloud, but he feels it, fear slithering inside his skull, dark and rotten, and he hates himself for surrending to it so easily.

Mutely, he nods. What other option does he have? Newt doesn’t know him. He’s a stranger to him. And this house… _Credence doesn’t have any right to be here._

Tina brushes his tears gently with her thumb.

     ”Oh, honey, I’m so sorry”, she says, and her honest, dark eyes are so bare with just how much she means that. Credence knows she is. And he’s so tired. _Hollow_. ”C’mon. I’ll help you pack.”

+

Credence has few things of his own. Very little. He’s strangely glad of it now, in a detached way.

A very distant part in his brain thinks _‘look, isn’t it great you didn’t buy anymore’ –_

Very few things, in the end. Kinda funny.

Just things he’s acquired and bought over the year. Some are gifts from Newt – like an enchanted chessboard _(his first contact to such innocent magic)_ that he bought for Credence as a Christmas present – _their first Christmas, god,_ there’s also a random selection of wizard candy –  chocolate frogs with shiny wrappers – some moving photographs of him, Newt and Pickett - clothes, both Muggle and wizard clothing.

Robes, a notebook, filled with little notes of spells and magic and Diagon Alley addresses –

His things fly across the room, neatly into a bag, and all the while, Credence’s cheeks are wet with silent tears and his hands are shaking. Tina shoots him worried glances, but thankfully doesn’t fill the silence with empty questions.

Except:

      ”What about...this?”

She sounds so unsure, so hesitating, that Credence knows almost instantly what she’s found.

He turns – and sees a photograph on Newt’s night stand.

This time it’s just Newt and him.

In the garden. He remembers that day; it was late autumn, the sky had been red and golden, leaves such vivid red, orange, brown and green. They had been happy. He can’t exactly remember what prompted it, but Newt kissed him, just like that – playful, shy and happy. They had decided to put it into frames a few months back.

Credence’s breathing hitches. He turns.

     ”W – would you please put it with the others? He – he’d just be confused.”

Tina hesitates, but then just nods and the photograph disappears into the bag.

They are done in half and hour.

Credence looks around the bedroom.

_Their_ bedroom.

_Now…_

Swallowing thickly, he reaches over and turns off the lights. Darkness falls.

With that, they Apparate to Goldstein’s house.

_(Tina holds him tightly.)_

+

The house smells of cinnamon, honey and strawberries. Queenie’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, her hair curled wildly by the steam. Sacks of flour and sugar float around her. Her movements are surprisingly erratic, her mouth pursed into a tight line.

     ”Jake’s gettin’ him right now”, she announces without turning. “Apparently he remembers meetin’ Tina, Jacob, me. Even Grindelwald, ain’t that funny?" Her tone indicates there's _nothing_ funny about it. "Remembers him but not his own partn –  also releasin’ the Thunderbird. He remembers everything, but...”

     ”Me.” The word weighs heavy, hollow on Credence’s tongue. ”It’s ‘cause I messed up. It’s my fault. ‘Cause I wasn't there in time. He got hit, and I’m ‘cause it happened.”

     ”No, Credence, that’s not true – ”

     ”What other explanation is there?” Credence asks desperately. ”There isn’t any!”

The silence that follows feels like a brutal punch in the ribcage.

_Your fault._

_Your fault_.

Queenie and Tina share a quick look.

     ”Credence, you heard what the healer said”, Tina says carefully, looking like she’s trying very hard not to frown. ”It’s selective amnesia – it wasn’t really like Obliviate, but something less powerful. Specificity always takes from something else.”

In Credence’s opinion it feels sort of like false hope. He doesn’t have any strength in him to argue. Exhaustion sets in like rocks. He just –

\- wants to go to sleep.

Escape. Run. Retreat. _Away_. But right now he can’t do any of those things, and he can’t, he _can’t_ leave Newt, not now. It’s all messy and tangled and painful and God, Credence doesn’t _know what to do._

     ”He’s comin’ here, right?” he finally asks quietly.

     ”The healer didn’t think it was a good thing to leave him alone just yet. Y’know, just in case.”

     ”He doesn’t need to see me, it’s not relevant for me to be here – ”

     ”You don’t know that”, Queenie interrupts and the look on her face makes Credence freeze. Her eyes are wide, feverishly bright, her nostrils flaring, smile twisting her lips like she's in pain. ”You don’t know what will help him. You _don’t._ I sure as hell didn’t. I couldn’t know. You don’t, either, I’m sorry, Credence. Maybe your face will help him. Y’know, jolt his memory, give it a good shake. It could be _anything_.”

Credence knows he should go. _Go anywhere else._

It’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s so bad – what if it just backfires? What if –

     ”Credence.” Queenie takes Credence’s hand, squeezes it with surprising strength and she gazes him with clear determination that's so similar to Tina's. ”It’s still Newt. Newt Scamander. Okay? The fella who loves so deeply and only wants to help people. Let’s – okay, let’s just give it a chance?”

Credence is weak. He knows he is. He’s so in love with Newt, and –  

     ”Just – just don’t tell him? What we w – ” He trails off, swallowing. He can’t say it. _Damn it all, he can’t even say it_. Weak, weak, weak.

     ”If that’s what you wish, hon. How ‘bout you go catch a nap, okay? You look like you’re ready to fall over.”

So he just nods.

+

Through his restless, fever-like dream, Credence hears Jacob and Newt chatting before they enter the country house the Goldstein sisters rented near Newt's house.

Credence's always been a light sleeper, flinching awake whenever Newt sneaked back into bed from the suitcase.  Back then, Newt murmured to him, pressed comforting kisses on his face, forehead, neck, then wrapped his arms around Credence’s waist, his chest against Credence’s back.

Newt’s always been so warm, such a solid safety. God, how Credence misses that. That intimacy, that feeling of being close to another person and trusting him with his everything, without being afraid of being scorned, dismissed, spat upon.

And now...

Now that’s all gone. It doesn’t exist anymore.

_Gone._

Downstairs he can hear quiet talking.

He doesn’t hear any specifics, but it sounds like Newt’s a bit cheerier. That’s good.  

Credence buries himself against a pillow, blinks hot tears from his eyes, clenches his teeth to silence any noises. After a while he falls asleep again and sees terrifying nightmares that fade away by dawn’s pale light.  

+


	2. adjusting

In the morning, Credence feels miserable.

For a half a minute, he doesn’t remember. For one wonderful moment, he doesn’t remember what’s happened.

He lays under blankets, feeling drowsy, slightly aware of soreness of his stiff muscles and stares at unfamiliar ceiling, stares and wonders this isn’t our bed, and then -

\- it hits him.

Realization shreds brutally through his mind like a saw blade, and suddenly he’s drowning, anxiety rising like bile into his mouth, and he curls under the blankets, shaking and biting his knuckles not to scream. It’s real. So terrifyingly real. It wasn’t a nightmare.

Newt doesn’t remember him. It really happened.

He rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling, tears trickling into his hair.

What should he do? All they’ve been through... There’s no way in hell Credence will force it ever. Newt doesn’t have to know. Just - just let things go on, on their own natural weight forward.

Wherever it might go. Whatever it might be. (However it might break Credence. But it's _not about you, now is it?)_

 It’s still Newt. Newt Scamander, a good man, impossibly kind and good. Newt, whose happiness is the most important thing to Credence.

How did it all go so _wrong?_

It was supposed to be just another trip to the woods. They were looking for - God, what was it? Muggles in the nearby village told they'd been seeing specters, but Newt had originally a more realistic theory about it.

So they were in the woods...a flash of white and _faes,_ Credence remembers Newt speculating, and then, they were _thrown back,_ Credence's mind was _reeling,_ and Newt was _out cold, he wouldn't respond,_ he was barely _breathing, just wet wheezing -_

_No faes._

Just Newt, unconscious.

And now...here.

Exhaling slowly, Credence makes up his mind and gets up, takes a quick shower, gets dressed and goes downstairs.

He hears someone in there, but it doesn’t sound like Queenie –

And of course, how it very often happens to be, the Fate finds Credence’s life and troubles quite amusing, because it’s Newt.

Credence freezes in horror and instantly feels awkward and trapped in this confined space.

Newt’s making tea. His everyday morning tea, just the way he likes it - lemongrass with a hint of honey, steeped for two minutes. The sight is so familiar to Credence that it momentarily steals his breath away, and he has to remind himself not to stare, because this isn’t fair to Newt. It’s all new to him. And Credence has no _right_.

He has absolutely no idea what to do, how to proceed. Should he run away? Yeah, he _definitely_ should run away.

Newt probably senses Credence’s shameless gawking, because he turns and his eyes widen.

     ”Oh, hello, good morning. Credence, wasn’t it?”

Credence’s mouth feels like it’s full of fabric. ”Uh, yeah. T - that’s - that’s me.”

It feels unbearable, to have Newt watching him with such polite curiosity. Glances, fluttering passed and down. _Like he does with strangers_. Because that’s what Credence is now. Only Credence. He’s a stranger to Newt.

God, Credence didn’t think it would hurt this much.

_Focus. Newt doesn’t know_.

     ”I – I’m sorry, but I’m a bit unclear on.... you are their friend, if I understood this correctly?”

Breathe. Breathe. You can answer. It’s okay.

     ”I’m – yeah, I’m their friend.” Breathe. Breathe. Calm down. You can do this. Credence tries bravely: ”Miss Tina saved me when I – I was in trouble.” It's true enough.

     ”Oh? That sounds rather like her, I suppose. She’s the kind sort, from what I’ve seen.”

Nothing.

There’s absolutely nothing.

_No recognition._

Despair grips Credence with ice cold fingers, but no, no, no, he can’t break, not now. He has to focus.

     ”Yeah, she is”, he replies with a faint smile that feels wrong. ”Both of ‘em, Queenie and Tina. They didn’t have to help me, but they did.” A pause. ”Are you – are you okay?”

Newt blinks, like he’s genuinely surprised to be asked that. ”Quite well, I – I’d say so? Any – specific reason?"

     ”N – no. I was just wondering if you are. Better, I mean.”

     ”I am, but that it is about amnesia – I don’t know what I can’t remember. I’m afraid I have to take the healer Podwell’s word for it.”

He smiles.

And that’s the truth of it, ain’t it? Newt doesn’t feel like he’s missing anything, like he has lost anything. It’s just Credence.

_Calm down._

Credence breathes shakily, opens his eyes and finds Newt watching him.

     ”Sorry”, he mumbles, uncomfortable.

     ”It’s quite all right, Credence.”

( _how many times has Credence heard that sentence? God, stop it, stop thinking about it)_

Credence is pretty sure Newt’s mind is wandering. Not that Credence can blame him. So, he just pours himself a cup of coffee, forces a smile and excuses himself. A coward’s way, he thinks to himself with disgust, but what else can he do?

It’s best for Newt just to leave him alone. Maybe Newt’s life will get better, if Credence isn’t around.

+

Queenie’s room is pretty; it has this fairy tale like pink violet hue, like twilight. There are many interesting things; jewellery, dresses, scarves, fabrics, scrolls of delicate lace, interestingly shaped perfume bottles.

She takes measurements of one of her dresses, her brow furrowed.

     ”How did you do it?” Credence asks quietly, twirling the coffee cup in his fingers. He can’t stop shaking.

She doesn’t have to ask what he means.

     ”Don’t really know”, she murmurs, waves the dress back into her closet and turns toward him. Her features seem heavy, older, thin lines more prominent around her eyes. ”I just... refused to leave it at that, I guess?”

She forces a smile.

     ”Wasn’t that smart, you know, now that I think ‘bout it. Felt like a long shot. Could’ve gone wrong in so many ways. But he - he baked from memory. No matter how foggy it was for him. Nifflers, Occamy, Murtlaps, so many, so... I had hope. Frail stupid desperate hope, but I had to. I woulda hated myself for the rest of my life if I left it like that. _Left_ him like that. Yeah?”

     ”But he asked, though. He remembered your face, some part of him recognized you – ”

     ”Nah, I don’t think it was that simple. Memories always bleed through, in some way, hon.”

     ”Newt didn’t even blink. D’you know that? Not even - there was nothing in there.” Credence wraps his trembling arms around himself. Calm down. It’s okay. _It has to be._ "And I don't blame him, 'cause how can I, it's not his fault, _it's not,_ I know it's not - "

Queenie pulls him into a firm embrace, resting her cheek against Credence’s hair. She smells like vanilla perfume and bakery.

     ”It’s gonna be swell, okay, Credence, it’s gonna be so great. ‘s just - gonna take a while, yeah? ‘s like an injury, just like all the others, just needs a bit more time to heal...”

Credence nods. He knows that. He does. (His limbs feel heavy, useless. Tired.)

+

Credence messes up.

He doesn’t mean to and he has absolutely no excuse why it happens, but it has happened and he realizes his mistake too late.

It’s after dinner; Credence in the living room trying to catch up Rare Potions and making notes, just to do something, when something tugs on his hair.

_Pickett._

The little creature chirps at Credence, melancholy and worried.

     ”Oh”, Credence says softly, puts the pen down and prompts Pickett to move on his palms. ”Sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t see you. Hi.”

Pickett peers at him under bright green leaves, trembling, and thin face crumbling.

     ”Oh, hey, no, no, don’t be like that... ‘s okay. Pickett, ‘s okay. Newt’s okay, yeah, see? He’s alive and healthy and okay, and - and it’s okay.”

The little bowtruckle apparently disagrees with _that_ notion, because he makes a rather rude noise under his breath and shakes his leaves in protest.   

     ”He’s alive”, Credence stresses a little desperately and lifts his hands so he and Pickett are on the same eye level. ”He’s alive, okay, and as far as that goes, his memories of me are irrevelant. C’mon...” Tremors go through his arms again, sending cold shivers to his neck. ”He’s alive and well, and that’s all that matters. Yeah?”

Pickett reaches to pat him gently on the cheek with his claw.

     “I missed you, too, Pickett.”

     “ – Pickett?”

_No._ Credence’s luck _can’t_ be this bad, it seriously _can’t._ Can’t he have a _break?_

Newt stands on the doorway, tilting his head curiously. Apparently not. Okay, then.

Pickett hangs onto Credence’s thumb, making clicking and chirping noises at Newt.

     “So, you’ve chosen another new tree, Pickett?” Newt asks, warm smile tugging the corner of his lips. “I’m positively shocked.”

     “Sorry”, Credence says on reflex, but he offers a small, tentative smile back.

     “Are you…familiar with bowtruckles? He seems quite fond of you already.”

     “Yeah, we get along, don’t we?” Credence murmurs and Pickett blows a raspberry. Yeah, Credence kind of agrees.

     “Now, Pickett, don't be rude.” Newt watches Pickett under his tousled hair, and it hurts to think just what must be going in Newt’s head; why, how, _when,_ because Pickett is notoriously reserved and suspicious of strangers, and Credence can just _magically_ get along with him?

_Yeah, no wonder he’s suspicious._

Uncomfortable, Credence hands Pickett back carefully to Newt. Pickett doesn’t seem to be impressed with the whole turn of events, but retreats huffing under Newt’s lapel. There’s a beat of silence before Newt clears his throat.

     “Did – Tina and Queenie – by any chance – tell you about the – “ he gestures awkwardly with his hand which Credence assumes probably means ‘the suitcase’.

     “No! I mean, no, they didn’t – they kept their word, I swear”, Credence rushes to say, a little panicked and tries to think fast. “’s just… I overheard. When you were in hospital. I heard ‘em talking. It’s my fault.”

Newt watches him again – or maybe he’s trying to be subtle; just fleeting glances.

     “No harm done, it’s quite all right”, he finally says, but it doesn't feel like it's _all right._  

Credence hesitates. “So, um – Tina told me you’re writing a book about magical creatures, yeah?”

(Newt doesn’t seem to think that’s an odd question, much to Credence’s relief.)

     “Yes, that’s right. Though, it’s more like…trying to get people understand them and less like to exterminate and kill.”

     “I think that’s an amazing idea. The, uh, understanding, I mean.” 

Newt chuckles. “Idea that doesn’t make me popular, unfortunately. I’m rather in the minority, I’m afraid.” His grin becomes thinner, more lop-sided. “But no matter, I’m quite determined not to let that deter me.”

_Yeah,_ thinks Credence tenderly, _you never did._

     “What creature are you working on?” he asks, although he knows exactly what. It’s strange – when they first met, this kind of small talk wouldn’t have come from Credence _at all._

Newt glances at him again, amused.

     “Oh, that’s nice of you to ask, but I don’t want to bother you with such things.”

     “’s not bothering me, I really want to know”, Credence assures him. “I’m a muggle-born, I guess? So, I want to know, whatever you wanna tell me. I’ll listen.”

     “Muggle?” Newt repeats, frowning in confusion. “I heard Americans favour the term ‘no-maj’ rather than muggles.”

_Dammit!_

_Why._ Just a slip of the tongue, Credence’s heard Newt use it so many times, so much more than _no-maj,_ and it’s part of their vocabulary now, _his vocabulary,_ and of course it sounds weird to Newt from _Credence’s mouth_  – _dammit!_

Credence panics.

     “I – uh, sorry – “

     “No, no, it just surprised me, haven’t heard that one around here…”

_I messed up,_ Credence thinks miserably.

Apparently Fates can be kind at times, too, because _thank God,_ the door opens and Tina peeks in.

     “Everything okay in here?” She makes it sound very suspicious.

     “ _Yes!”_ Credence squeaks, shooting on his feet.

She narrows her eyes. “Okay”, she says _very_ slowly. “Anyway, the food’s ready, so c’mon, fellas.”

+

The dinner is awkward. Well, at least to Credence. Small talk has _never_ been one of his strongest points - nor will it ever be - but thankfully Jacob and Queenie fill the silence with effortless grace.

Newt's eating - but Credence doesn't know what's wrong. Because _something is off._ He's too quiet, his brow is furrowed, and it makes Credence restless. Did he really mess up that badly?

Tina's gauging the situation, her dark eyes flash between them with both suspicion and worry. In the end, her self-control finally breaks, and she drops her fork.

     "Everything all right, Newt?" she asks tensely.

     "What? Yes, of course. Thank you?"

     "You're being weird", Tina accuses.

Newt smiles a little. "I'm certain many would agree."

     "Not funny and not what I asked, stop evading."

     "I'm fine, Tina, honestly."

Tina looks like she doesn't agree with that, and Credence's on the same page, too.

The dinner goes on. Afterwards Credence helps Queenie wash dishes - sure, she could do it by magic, but Credence's found out that manual work helps him concentrate. She flicks her wand to put the plates back in place and continues to keep Credence company.

Jacob's returned to work and Tina and Newt are talking quietly in the living room. Tina has her 'Auror' - face on - which Credence usually finds a bit worrying, and he tries not to look anywhere near their direction.

     "'m not gonna break apart", he mumbles, when he catches Queenie glancing at him.

     "No one's thinkin' that, honey."

     "I think _everyone's_ thinkin' it." Credence scrubs the plate harder. "I feel like I'm - crossin' a line."

Queenie lowers her wand in surprise. "Why's that, hon?"

     "He doesn't know who I am. It's like, takin' advantage. I know what he's working on, I know how he likes his tea or that he doesn't like to sleep on the left side of the bed. I _know_ these things, yeah, so why am I askin'? To make him _like_ me? I shouldn't. I _shouldn't._ 's not right. I should just _leave."_

     "You are givin' him distance, Credence. He might not remember you, but that doesn't mean you can't make some new memories with him, right?"

Credence's shoulders slump at her very gentle tone. "Yeah", he mumbles.

     "An' I know what you're feeling, Credence. Feels like cheating." Credence jolts, glances at her, startled. Queenie's smile is twisted, a bit choked. "'Cause that's what _Legilimens_ feels like to me, sometimes. Felt like with Jake. But...just... new memories, Credence. New memories and kindness and understanding. You get it, you're a smart, good cookie, hon."

Credence doesn't feel quite relieved, but his burden seems to weight less, ever so slightly. 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Credence support group!   
> Poor Credence :( 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your support and kudos and comments, you are all very kind for sticking around! <3


	3. suitcase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Credence doesn't know what to do and how to adapt into this new situation.

Credence can't sleep.

It feels strange, sleeping alone after so many months sleeping next to Newt. Nightmares haunt him, _hello, who might you be, hello, who might you be, hello -_

He wakes up, bathing in clammy cold sweat, breathing harshly, his mouth dry, eyes wet.

_Stop it. This is the present now, so stop dreaming,_ he thinks, burying fingers into his hair. Anxiety blossoms in his ribcage, _he has to get up,_ and he sneaks down the dark stairs into the living room.

He whispers: _Lumos,_ and pale light flickers on, and Credence curls on the couch, breaths deeply and opens his little notebook.

It's a scruffy lil' thing, his first purchase from Diagon Alley, worn by numerous notes and calculations and sketches, many done by different ink.

( _"Do they have any meanings?"_ Newt asked once curiously peering over Credence's shoulder. " _The ink, I mean."_

  _"Uh, kinda? This means 'remember later'."_

  _"And this one? Red? If you don't mind?"_

Credence remembers grinning. _"It means 'dangerous, don't touch maybe'? Or 'stop Newt from developing it into something super dangerous'."_

_"Oh, very cheeky, that. I can't belive you." )_

Happy times.

Now Credence is determined to push his raw feelings somewhere back and _work._ To concentrate on something else. He supposes he's kind of similar to Newt in that sense; he likes to work, focus on doing something with his hands, to put his mind to use.

_Sleeping Drought._

The recipe stares up at him. Yeah, kind of ironic, now, isn't it.

Credence works. The pale light floats around his head, illuminating the wrinkled pages.

     "Oh - hello?"

_Is this real life._

Credence _can't_ have this bad of a luck. Maybe he should just put a tent outside and sleep in there -

Newt stands startled in the doorstep, blinking owlishly at him.

     "Sorry", Credence says, hurries to close the book. "Did the light wake you?"

     "Not at all, I have a tendency to sleep lightly, sorry to say."

_Yeah, I know._

     "Okay. We've got chamomille tea in the cupboard if you want a cup."

In the pale white light, Newt's forehead creases. "Chamomille?"

     "Yeah, I - " Credence shuts up. Has he messed up again? 'Cause Newt prefers chamomille in the evening, at night, he thinks other herbs are tad too strong for him, or so he said, and _now, goddamnit,_ why couldn't Credence just mind his own damn business for _once?_ He stutters, tries to fix this all: "O - or if you prefer valeriana, sorry. I think they're fresh out of it right now?"

     "You - "

Newt doesn't finish his sentence. He stares at Credence.

_Stares._

Under knitted eyebrows, green-gold _hazel_ eyes not quite narrowed, but _confused,_ sharp like pieces of pale glass, like he's trying to understand a surprisingly complicated puzzle.

Then, the expression softens slightly, and he gestures the notebook. "Light reading, I assume?" he asks, his tone kinder.

     "Uh, notes, more like? I, uh, like to keep track of things I learn."

Newt smiles, and he looks down almost shyly. It's so familiar it physically _aches_ behind Credence's ribs.

     "That's the smart way. I'm more - messy kind of learner, myself."

     "Yeah?" asks Credence and feels a fond smile tugging his lips.

     "I'm afraid so. My teachers were at their wits end in that regard." A pause. "W - well, quite frankly, they were at their wits end on many other occassions, as well."

     "That means Hogwarts, right?"

     "Ah, I suppose Queenie has already told you her general opinion of it?" Newt asks with  good-natured humor. It's strange, to have this discussion at _1:24 AM._ But it's familiar and Credence feels consoled by it, nonetheless. Newt might not remember him, but it's still Newt, _good and gentle Newt._

     "Just said Ilvermorny is much better."

     "And if I may - what is your opinion?"

Credence shrugs. "I'm - kinda home-schooled? That's why miss Tina and Queenie helped me; no legit education. Fish out of water. S - so...thus - the - the notebook?" He waves the stupid book at Newt as if to make a point.

Newt blinks again. "Do they not send an owl, when you are suitable age?" he asks in disbelief.

     "Uh, no, didn't - didn't happen to me. Yeah, no."

     "I'm sorry", Newt apologizes, _because of course he does._

      "No, no, 's okay. Really. Miss Tina was really kind to me - even though I - sorta didn't deserve it. She helped me nonetheless. Twice, to be honest."

     "She's quite determined."

     "Yeah."

A pause, but this time it's not awkward.

Then, tentatively, Newt asks: "Would you - I'm going to feed my Occamy; she's been having sore throat, lately, cold most likely, so would...would you like to give me a hand, by any chance?" 

Credence startles. "What?"

Newt interprets this as total confusion, because he hurries to explain: "My suitcase. My - my creatures are there...would you like to lend a hand? I'd appreciate a little assistance, if you're willing?"

For a moment, Credence is stunned. _Absolutely_ stunned. Why's Newt asking him that? Credence _is a stranger to Newt,_ Newt doesn't know who he is, and he just _asks_ him that?

(Then again, it's Newt. Why is Credence surprised, again?)

He can't help himself. _He can't._ He shouldn't, he absolutely shouldn't, but...

He smiles, and he can _feel_ nostalgic sort of sadness tug at him, but still he loves Newt from the bottom of his heart, nevermind their current situation, and -

     "I'd love that. Thank you", he says softly, hoping it conveys all the gratitude, _that Newt knows how much Credence appreciates this._ How much he doesn't take it for granted.

This - this show of trust that Credence can't understand.

The smile Newt flashes at him is almost worth it.

+

 Credence hasn't been down in the suitcase since the accident. 

As he's carefully climbing down the stairs, he automatically shifts on his left foot to avoid the dangerously creaking step that they - well, Newt _now -_ should fix at some point, it's only a matter of time before someone falls and cracks their skull open -

     "Careful, the fourth step is a bit - " Newt starts, and then shuts his mouth, when he realizes Credence is already standing behind him. "Oh. Hello."

Credence smiles. "Hi."

He can smell herbs of Newt's workshop, the soil, old paper and musty ink. The wooden walls creak, and familiar orange-golden light filters through curtains. _Home._

     "Oh, sorry, it's a bit - bit cluttered - "

     "'s okay. Can I help?"

Newt doesn't hesitate, but he gives Credence a light look. "Would you happen to know how to make Pepperup Potion?"

     "The - " Credence runs a mental list in his head and nods slowly. "Yeah, I think so?"

They begin working.

It's a familiar routine, an old dynamic - Credence knows where everything is, but he wants to play it safe and asks where some of the ground moth wings are or the powders or where he could get fresh water.

Then, he slips. He reaches, in thought and not really focusing, he lets his mind _wander for a single moment,_ and he reaches up for drying Mandrake roots that Newt hangs on the ceiling beam in small linen bags.

Humming slightly, he pulls one of the bags down with casual ease - _and then he remembers that he's not supposed to know that it's there._

Panicked, he glances at Newt -

But Newt is working on the vials, completely concentrated on the chore.

Credence sighs in relief. _What a close call. Good God._

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, he continues working by Newt's side and finally, the potion bubbles red-hot on a tiny burner.

     "Is - that okay?" Credence asks wringing his fingers together. It's not his first time doing it, but he still wants to make sure. He hates disappointing Newt.

Newt sniffs the potion and smiles. "Certainly smells like it. Wonderful, thank you, Credence. Come on?"

Newt leads Credence outside; he breathes shakily, changes his expression into something like enchanted _gawking,_ and really, it's not that hard to accomplish. Sometimes, even after all this time with Newt, things like the suitcase hits him like some unlikely fairytale.

     "Yes, I know, it's - it's quite mental, to be honest", Newt mutters, his ears turning red. 

     "I think it's fantastic", Credence says honestly and feels a pang in his heart as Newt smiles softly at him and leads him along a familiar path to the Occamy nest.

Shadowed by tall, emerald green trees, the tiny serpentine-like creatures hiss and mewl at them from their comfy, round nest. One of them coughs out smoke and looks miserable, her scales dull and shineless.

     "It's all right, it's all right, calm now, everyone, Mum's here", Newt murmurs, sets down the vial of Pepperup Potion and kneels by the nest. "Hello, dear, no, no, shh, it's all right. We'll have something to ease your symptoms, now don't we? Yes, I know it smells awful, but I swear, it will help. See? Credence here made it."

The occamy turns her snake-like head toward Credence, and her large, amber eyes glimmer in recognition, which Credence counts as a good reaction, because she _has_ sunken her little fangs into his hand once before.

She shifts and squirms toward Credence, who in horror realizes what she's going to do. _No! No, no -_

His cover is going to be completely destroyed by a baby _occamy._ No. On the second thought, even biting would've been preferable to this, _GOD._

The occamy, however, doesn't seem to give a damn what Credence thinks or wishes, because she slithers out of Newt's hands and wraps herself around Credence's neck like a warm shawl.

Credence doesn't dare to move.

She begins to make weak sounds that remind him of cat's purring.

     "Oh."

     "I dunno what to do", Credence says nervously. Well, he kind of does, but... _is Newt all right with this?_ Newt doesn't know Credence's done this before, Newt doesn't know that Credence is familiar to the creatures, _but this is not Credence's place._

So he stays still and waits nervously.

Newt is silent, and Credence grows frantic.

     "Well, Credence, I'm positively envious right now", Newt finally says, and his smile becomes warm, _gentle,_ so softly proud that Credence can't _handle_ it. "Would you like to give her the potion, by any chance?" 

     "Uh, if - if you're okay with that? I don't want to overstep my boundaries."

     "Nonsense, you're not overstepping anything - it's all right, don't worry."

_'Cause then you'll suffer twice. Yeah, I remember that, too._

     "I'll try not to pet it", Credence grins back and takes the pipette. "Easy now, 's okay - see? Nothing dangerous..."

The occamy disagrees and snorts with disgust.

     "Yeah, 's the pepper, sorry. C'mon, open your mouth a little?"

The occamy adjusts her position, and moves to rest on Credence's palm. Credence tickles her under the chin. Glowering at him, the creature reluctantly opens her mouth and allows Credence to inject a few drops of sizzling potion into the gaping maw.

She splutters and coughs - and steam rises from her ears. All the while, the pure _betrayal_ and _annoyance_ radiating from her scaly face.

     "Sorry", Credence says and lets the occamy wrap herself rebelliously around his neck again. He can't pet her, to ease the discomfort, but he can do this for the poor thing.

All the while Newt watches and observes this.

     "Remarkable", he murmurs, rubs his mouth, like he's in deep thought. In Credence's opinion, Newt looks a little stunned.

     "Uh, was that okay?" he asks nervously.

     "It was very - _very_ good. Well done."

Credence smiles shyly back.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying to you, Newt._

+

Newt helps the occamy back to the nest; the steam's cooled, and the little creature wraps herself into a ball and dozes off.

There's a beat of silence between them, and then, at the same time, they say:

     "Thank you."

Surprised, they blink at each other.

     "Beg your pardon, you go ahead, please."

     "N - no, no, you first."

It's _so silly._

Newt grins, just as silly and heartwarming and contagious as before, laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. Credence finds himself grinning back.

_So silly._

     "Thank you", Credence says, meaning every word and watches Newt behind black lashes, under raven curls. "For - for showin' me this. You didn't have to. And - and thank you...for trusting me."  

     "No, it's - it's my pleasure, honestly." Newt rubs the back of his neck, his freckles glowing in bronze warmth.

Credence wants to say: _You believed me once too, this is because of you -_

He wants to say: _Thank you for trusting me._

He wants to say: _I'm sorry for lying to you_

He wants to say: _I love you_

He opens his mouth - to say something, none of the thoughts, _every one, none,_ when Newt, in fact, interrupts by saying very softly:

     "You were wonderful, Credence, a tremendous help, by the way, I don't want you to think it wasn't appreciated, because it quite frankly was more than that - "

     "No, 's okay..." Credence murmurs back bashfully, hating how Newt's praise continues to affect him with the same shy pleasure as months and _months_ before. As it is _now._ He doubts Newt would be so generous if he knew.

Newt has absolutely no idea what's plaguing Credence's mind; he tilts his head thoughtfully, and now, his attention is closer than before.

     "Have you had any experience with magical creatures before, by any chance?"

_The big question, ain't it._

Credence bites his lip. "Uh, not really? I liked - I liked cats back at home, though." A pause. "But that doesn't really count."

     "Oh, really? In New York, was it?"

     "Y - yeah."

     "Quite an unique city, rather amazing...a lot of people, though. Not exactly my forte, so to speak. Did you learn magic in the States?"   

Credence freezes. "I - sorry. Can we talk about somethin' else?" he asks awkwardly.

     "Of course, I apologize, that was rude of me..."

     "No, no, 's fine, it's just..." Credence has no idea how to continue, so he says nothing.

     "I was out of line, Credence", Newt says quietly.

     "No, you were curious, it's not - you didn't know, 's okay, don't worry."

Newt opens his mouth to say something - probably politely argue, but a second later, they hear the workshop's door slam open and Tina's enraged howl:

     " _Newt, the blasted NIFFLER!"_

The way Newt's eyes widen should be comical, but they are both too aware of the mayhem a single Niffler can manage.

So, simultaneously they say: "Oh, no."

+

     "Which way did he go?" 

     "Did you see him?"

Tina looks stunned to see them both climbing out of the suitcase, and crosses her arms on her chest, eyes narrowed.

     "Shot out like a bullet, Morgana's _sock,_ Newt, didn't you make sure they _don't_ get out - ?"

     "I was distracted", Newt waves his hand and peers behind her.

Tina glances at Credence, in a mix of curiosity and worry. "Okay, but - Newt, do you need help?"

     "Always appreciated, thank you, Tina, but - "

They all freeze.

The back door slams shut.

_Oh no._

Credence and Newt move at the same time, nearly collide in their hurry to get _there._ They catch a glimpse of the Niffler's tail before he disappears under the yard's fence into darkness.

     "We need to split", Credence says. It's pitch black out there and the temperature's dropping even _now, God, it's just few weeks from winter,_ the Niffler's gonna _freeze -_

     "Good idea, but take a coat - " Tina starts -

     "Credence - "

But _it's Newt's creature,_ so Credence shakes his head, "No time, I'll go ahead", doesn't wait an answer, yanks the door open and dashes across the yard into the darkness.

The ice cold air whips Credence's cheeks, tears his hair, nothern breeze tears through his body like it's _tissue paper,_ but _they need to find the Niffler,_ he's one of theirs, one of their _babies,_ he's important -

So, Credence runs.

+


	4. the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence chases the Niffler and gets some revelations.

It's really dark outside.

_Pitch-black._

Credence's forgotten how dark it really gets out here, on the English countryside. Feels kind of silly, now in retrospect, to forget such a thing. The air smells like old autumn leaves, crisp apples and _frost._ He treks down a familiar path that takes to a small pond where they had a picnic in the summer. Credence rubs his cold hands together and whispers: _"Lumos"_

The white light illuminates the nearby bushes and treeline. Credence shifts uncomfortably. It makes him uneasy, to be so _out on the open._

_Okay, focus,_ Credence tells himself, squares his shoulders and goes further, stopping here and there to listen.

Silence.

_Absolute,_ ringing silence.

Credence can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Wind rustles the leaves somewhere above him. He shivers, his teeth chattering.

     "C'mon, little buddy", he murmurs and reaches to his pockets - not that he really expects to find anything, he doesn't really sleep with anything valuable on him, so no dice on that. _Shame, though._ "C'mon, we gotta go home, okay? Newt misses you."

_Silence._

Not even rustling anymore.

Cold chills crawl into Credence's neck.

_Something's wrong._

He doesn't know _how,_ but everything in the forest drips with sheer _wrongness_ that he can't _explain._ It chills through his bones, makes his heart thunder in his chest.

     "Hello?"

The light floats further on it's own, down a trodden path.

Credence frowns, wonders if he should follow it -

Then, he hears distressed _squealing._

Credence's heart skips a beat. _Oh no._ He dashes into run, frantically tearing down the path.

     "I'm coming!"

Treebranches whip his cheeks as he stumbles through and continues running. _Which way, which way -_

Finally he ends up on a small meadow - but it's unfamiliar. They haven't been here before... Surrounded by dark, skeletal trees and spreading shadows, Credence realizes, rather belatedly, that _this necessarily wasn't a very good idea._

His breathing comes out frost-white.

He's so _cold._

     " _Little Barebone",_ a thin, eerie voice hisses somewhere - _around him._ Credence freezes. " _Little Barebone, here around, here around all, didn't get enough suffering, now did you learn at all?"_

Wildly, Credence glances around. "Who's there?"

The voice crackles, _shrieks_ and Credence realizes with horror that it's _laughter._

     " _Now, now, wrong person, you are the one who remembers, with vengeance and with sorrow and grief and love, you are asking wrong questions from us, little Barebone."_

The leaves rustle, trees _creak_.

_The Niffler whimpers._

     "What're you _doing_ to him?" Credence demands, trying to find the source, but it _comes_ everywhere; frost whiteness flickers and flashes in the dark like light playing on mirror. 

     " _We? We do nothing. Nothing wrong, unpredictably predictable, humans are, nothing wrong, you tiny mortals. Memories are, too. Fragile yet not. He's a strange one."_  

Are they the - ?

_They are._

Fear trickles into his system, ice cold and gripping. _Newt's theory was right. Dammit!_

_Can't think about it now, can't, gotta focus -_

Credence shakes his head. "Where's the Niffler?"

Another ear-piercing _shriek,_ low-high- _cackling._

    " _Here, here. He's here. Tiny thing",_ it coos, and now, Credence can hear the familiar squealing closer.

     "Let him go, please."

     " _Go? Go where, go home, go to you? Which is safer, little Barebone?"_

The squealing gets louder, then Credence hears _'thump',_ and the creature emerges from the shadows and _jumps_ into Credence's arms, desperately burrowing into his chest. _The poor thing's trembling._

     "Shh, no, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here", Credence murmurs, petting gently the Niffler's back, hoping he sounds braver than he feels. "We're gonna be fine."

    " _Fine, fine, fine, fine."_ The voice giggles. _"Are you fine? Fine that your mate, your lover does not remember you? Fine is such pain, such pain. Festering in you. It must be very hard and very fine."_

     "Stop it. He's alive, that's what matters."

     " _Oh, but you do not believe that."_

_I do. I do._

     "He's alive, and if my memories are the price for that, then I don't give a damn."

The next sounds that echo from behind the trees chill Credence's _blood._

     " _So the damned talks about giving a damn and prices and life and how you taint these woods, that you do, little Barebone, broken and filthy and damned as well?"_

Credence's breathing stutters. "What?"

     " _Do you think we would allow a parasite in our woods, our home, our woods, our hollowed grounds?"_ the voice hisses dangerously, suddenly all the sweet _coyness_ shattering away. _"A dark force rotting our trees, our meadows! You are not welcome here, **freak!** " _

Credence's head lolls heavily. His mind reels as he struggles to understand this.

     "S - so, _what?_ You - you h - hurt Newt to - to, what, warn me away? To give me a _lesson?"_

     " _You just march in here, our grove, our forest, like you've earned any place, like you belong, you do not, do not, do not, filth! We can feel the parasite, pulsing and rotting and decaying. You ruin our magic!"_

Magic?

Credence suddenly can't breathe.

The Niffler squeaks in distress and worry, peering at him, his snout sniffling.

     "I - I didn't realize", Credence chokes. "I'm sorry. I - I deeply apologize for - for ruining your home without even getting it. But you didn't have to hurt Newt. He was innocent in this, he didn't have - "

     " _Your lover, your mate, meant everything to you, meant everything to him, his soul was singing and humming and happy, of course we did, didn't help, you made things worse, made him blind, didn't help, didn't stop you!"_ the voice shrieks and screeches so loudly it hurts Credence's ears.

     "He didn't _know!_ He didn't, we had no idea, and - we are so deeply sorry for ever doing so in ignorance - a - and stupid arrogance. Please, how can we fix it - "

A beat of crushing silence.

Then -

     " _No. We do not want you here. Parasite. Insect."_

A sudden pressure hits Credence brutally across the face; he's thrown on his back, and black stars pulse in his vision. The Niffler _shrieks._

     "'m fine, 'm fine, don't worry", Credence slurs and wobbles back on his feet, clutching the shaking Niffler against his chest. He should let the poor thing go, but it's dangerous in the forest, _with those things - faes? -_ and -

_I gotta protect him -_

     "How - how can I fix it? To make it better?" Credence wheezes. "You - you already took Newt's memories."

     " _Does it hurt, little Barebone?"_

     "Yeah. It _does",_ Credence answers shakily, truthfully. "Please, don't punish him anymore. We didn't know."

     " _He doesn't know he's suffering. Doesn't know. If you ask us, we helped, he escaped your touch, he's free",_ the voice snarls, and that hurts just as much as the magical backslash few moments ago.

     "Yeah, okay, I agree - but will you allow him back in this area? If I'm not with him, w - without him?"

A pause.

Credence isn't sure if it's surprised or not.

     " _He might be",_ the voice says slowly. _"He will be. In time. We remember. The trees remember. In time."_

_Okay, good._ Credence is relieved. Newt is allowed here, he'd be so confused why the local fae population is furious with him, when it's _Credence's fault_ in the first place.

     "How can I help?"

     " _Do not come back, parasite, filth, freak, abomination. You do not belong here, not in these woods, not in our world. Magic is not for you. You haven't earned a place, you taint everything you touch, our magic, their magic, your lover's magic. He was not an exception."_

Credence's back stiffens. His eyes are stinging, and _agony_ burns his throat.

     "Okay. I - I agree."

The voice, now a loud chorus, hisses, cackles and shrieks in gleeful victory - that sits wrong and jagged in Credence's bones.

     " _You may leave, parasite, little Barebone-parasite, consider it a mercy from us."_

     "Thank you", Credence says mechanically and bows. "May the - the spring be kind to you."

The voices go silent.

The presence, heavy and crawling, retreats, and Credence realizes he's allowed to leave. With heavy heart and aching bones, Credence adjusts the Niffler's position in his arms and heads back to the Goldstein country house.

+

Back at the house, the Goldstein sisters are worried and _livid._

     "No _coat!"_ Tina shrieks and points her wand threateningly at him. "No shoes! What, were you _not_ listening, _at all,_ mister? It's _cold!"_

     "I know, miss Tina", Credence mumbles and passes the sniffling, sleeping Niffler to Newt. "He's okay, I think. Maybe just scared?"

Newt rubs comforting circles on the Niffler's neck, and the pure, warm _gratitude,_ relief that reflects back at Credence, nearly _breaks_ him.

     "Thank you, Credence", he says, his low voice wobbling slightly. "That was very brave of you - _thank you,_ you don't know - not many would do that, go after him, in the middle of the night, into pitch black darkness no less. _"_ A concerned beat. "Without a coat, too, I might add."

     "Yeah, sorry. And, uh, you're welcome", Credence says smiling, but that too feels wrong. _Breaking._

_I'm breaking._

_I'm - tainting magic._

_Am I really tainting his magic, too? Is this really a blessing for him, to not remember?_

     "Are you all right?" Newt asks, worried, and now, Credence feels like _screaming,_ howling, _screaming and crying, this is too much -_ "Wait a minute, did someone _hit_ you?"

_What?_

Then, Credence remembers the backslash.

     "No! W - well, I surprised some - some faes", he explains desperately and hates himself. _Liar, liar. God, when do you learn?_ Never, apparently.

     "Faes?" Newt repeats, scowling. "Local of the woods, then - I didn't realize they were this close, but - oh, I'm sorry, that looks quite painful. I have some ointment - very effective, smells rather bad, though - but not to worry, it works like a charm - "

     "No, thank you. It's okay. I'm okay."

_How many times will I say that and not mean it?_

Newt stares at him, and something flashes in his pale gaze, like a sword's edge. 

     "Are you sure? There's absolutely no shame in asking, that must've been frightening - faes possess unique sort of terror, rather cruel trickery, especially at times like these - "

     "No. Thank you, though. You're very kind, Mr. Scamander."

It just _slips out. Old habit._ Old habit which Credence feels more tangibly than ever before.

     "Newt", says Newt immediately, his tone surprisingly firm. "Please."

Credence forces a smile. "I'll try to remember that, Mr. Scamander."

_Feels like a flashback._

Feels like crying.

    "Okay!" Queenie's fake, cheery voice cuts through, and she grasps Credence's arm. "Teenie, would ya mind takin' Credence upstairs? Poor fella looks like he's ready to fall on his feet - I'll make some cocoa, my special recipe - you fancy some?" she asks Newt.

     "I - yes, thank you, that would be brilliant."

Tina grabs Credence, holds him tightly, and he's dizzily grateful for that. She takes him upstairs, to his room - their cozy little guest room.

     "What happened?" she asks, biting nervously her lower lip.

     "Faes", Credence replies, wearily. "I wasn't lying about that, seriously. Faes of the woods."

     "What, _these_ woods?" Tina repeats frowning. " _Really?"_

     "Seemed real enough to me", Credence sighs, takes off his dirty shirt and changes into a clean one and finaly sits on his bed. He's so _tired._ "They made his memories disappear."

Tina pales. " _What?"_

     "The faes. Fairies. They - they didn't like me in their forest. In their territory." His smile twists into something painful. "An Obscurus, y'know. Say I - I taint their magic. Taint their forest, their grounds." He swallows. "Say I taint _his_ magic. Newt's magic. Said I'm a parasite. Filthy. N - not allowed."

     "No." Tina's voice cuts like _steele._ "Credence Barebone, there's _nothin'_ wrong with you. D'you hear me? Nothing. They are _wrong."_

     "Well, they're the reason why Newt can't remember me", Credence points out with a broken smile. "'Cause we were lookin' for them, you know. Before. Said he made me go in there, into the woods, said he did _nothin'_ to help, but we didn't know, they wanted me to go away, and to hurt me, I don't know how to fix it - "

He breathes deeply through his nose, tries to regain some control, but his emotions are going haywire.

     "At least Newt's allowed back in there. In time. So... at least there's that."

     "Screw that", Tina snaps, and there's some pink colour on her cheeks, her eyes wild with _anger._ "That's all _wet,_ and you know it, Credence. You did _nothing_ wrong. You didn't ask to grow up in an abusive home. You didn't ask to be abused and beaten. Your adoptive mother was an evil woman, who - " She bites her tongue and struggles. "You are a good person, Credence. Kind and brave. Please, _please_ rememeber that! You didn't ask to be an Obscurus, and really, it's not a Merlin-cursed crime if you're one! So those faes can go fu- "

She shuts up, and the colour on her cheeks deepens. She clenches her jaw, eyes wide, like daring Credence to laugh at her.

He does no such thing.

     "Thank you", he says quietly. "'m sorry. I didn't know it'd go like this. I didn't - " With a shaky sigh, he leans against his knees. "It's not gonna come back, is it? His memory?"

     "We don't know that", Tina says immediately and sits beside him as a comforting support. "Have a little faith, just a little bit more, okay?"

_I don't think I have that anymore._

     "Thanks, miss Tina."

     "Stop that", she huffs, but she's not serious about it.

     "Sorry."

Tina leans against his shoulder. "We just gotta... wait a bit. Okay? His noodle's really stubborn, it'll pick up those memories in time."

_How many times I've heard that?_

     "Hasn't happened. Maybe he's really better off without me..." He doesn't mean to slip it out like that; he's tired and cold, and _that's no excuse, dammit all -_

     " _Credence Barebone!"_ Tina sounds horrified and _angry._

     "What, it's true! Even the faes said so!"

     "They erased his memory, so, _what,_ that makes their opinion _matter?_ They don't get to have a say in it unless they wanna fix it! _"_

Credence struggles. "Yeah, I - I dunno, okay, this is messin' with my head..." he groans, burying his head into his hands.

     "I know. It's gonna be okay."

Credence is so _goddamn sick of hearing it._

False hope, toxic hope, _hope that's not even hope anymore._

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sisters are really trying to support Credence ;_;   
> Also, I planned this story to be four chapters. FOUR. Now it's more than that and what I've written so far in my folders is more than I've ever published in English. It's kinda overwhelming, and kinda making me both excited and anxious. But I'm not giving up! Practise, practise, practise! :D


	5. fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are catching up to Credence.

Credence's confrontation with the faes sits wrong in his skin, so Tina drags him downstairs to have some Queenie's delicious hot cocoa - Credence's always loved her cookings, never mind what they are and this isn't an exception. Queenie spices her cocoa with cinnamon and some rum, still in her night robe, and Credence remembers _oh yeah,_ it's still night.

     ”Hiya, Credence”, Jacob greets him from the table and lifts a mug to him. He's in his pyjamas, too.

     ”Hi. Sorry for not seein' you earlier.”

     ”Pfft, stop that, ain't nothing to it. I know 's been hard on you”, Jacob says warmly, and Credence feels a wave of gratitude toward him. Then, he notices Newt's missing.  

     ”Uh, anyone seen Newt?”  

Jacob waves his hand.

     ”Down in his case. Probably puttin' the little guy back to sleep, if I had to guess.” He eyes Credence over the mug. ”You know, I'm not sayin' I'm any sorta expert on this magicky stuff, 'cause I'm sure as hell not, _but..._ can I tell you something?”

     ”Sure?” Credence replies curiously, wondering where this is going.  

     ”Look, I'm not sure - you know, if _my_ memory thingamajig was anythin' like his - but just... give it time. I didn't open my bakery in a day, so... it trickled, you know?” He taps his temple. ”In dreams. Huh, kinda like water? Like - like the sense of déjà vu, you know?”

     ”But it - _his_ came from faes?”

     ”But they use magic too, yeah?”

Credence stops. Stares.

     ”Might be different, might be the same”, Jacob points out wisely and flashes a grin at Credence, who continues to _gape_ at him. ”Can't _be_ that different in the end, right?”

That -

Credence hasn't _quite_ considered that. Not in the sense that Jacob means.

     ”...thanks, Jacob.”

     ”You're welcome! Did that help any?”

Credence smiles weakly. ”Yeah. You know what, it - it kinda did.”

Jacob beams. ”Awesome. Want a pastry? Don't worry, it didn't drop on the floor or anythin' - just leftovers. I was trying a new recipe.”

     ”I - I'd love some, thanks.”

Credence nibbles the delicious pastry filled with sweet chocolate cinnamon paste and listens Jacob's story how these British people like their scones and how weird it is to him to make something like that, and it's comforting to just _listen_ for a while.

Queenie and Tina come back in; Tina still seems to disapprove Credence's hasty decision to _ignore the coat._

     ”So”, she says, her arms still crossed over her chest. ”In Newt's suitcase. What were you doin' in there exactly?”

Credence's cheeks turn red. ”Um, helping with Jean. The - occamy baby. She had a cold”, he mumbles, embarrassed.

     ”Uh huh. In the middle of the night.”

     ”Well, I woke up? Couldn't sleep, and he found me, an' - uh, asked for my help. C'mon, like anythin' indecent would happen...”

     ”Yeah, well, you don't know. He did fall for you once before.”

     ”Shhh!” Credence hushes and glances behind her into the living room, panicked that Newt would hear.  Tina does magnificent job of not quite rolling her eyes, but still keeping her expression wry.

     ”Oh, _please,_ he's upstairs, his suitcase is in his _room.”_

     ”Yeah, but... okay.” Credence nibbles the pastry again, embarrassed.

Tina glowers at him for a moment before she turns her attention to her sister. ”Any new developments?”

     ”Nah, but... 's the _accent”,_ Queenie says with apologetic tone. ”Can't really get a hold of his noodle. Not that I wanna, mind ya, 's weird in there”, she adds a little disdainfully. ”Knowin' what _was_ there. He - he just needs to heal, that's all.”

     ”God _dammit.”_

_”Teenie!”_

 While the sisters banter, Jacob nudges Credence lightly. ”So, fairies, huh? What, were they lil' people with wings? Like Tinkerbell or somethin'?”

Credence's explaining the showdown as Newt comes in - he looks a bit weary, but his expression lightens. ”Oh, hello.”

     ”The lil' fella okay?”

     ”Yes, a little shaken, but I gave him a few drops of Sleep Draught, so he should be fine.” His features soften. ”Thank you again, Credence. That was...very brave of you.”

Red flushes all the way to Credence's hairline. ”I just - stumbled through bushes, really”, he mumbles.

     ”Well, meeting with the faes couldn't have been easy”, Newt says, his voice growing a little lower. ”They rarely make things easy freely.”

     ”Yeah, they were kinda scary”, Credence admits, feeling a sharp twinge in his heart. _Your fault, your fault, abomination, haven't earned your place here, filth, **freak** \- _

     ”Thank you.”

     ”You - said that already, Mr. Scamander, 's okay - ”

     ” _Newt._ Please. I'd - prefer it, to be honest, if you called me Newt.”

A beat of silence.

They stare at each other; Newt's gaze unflinching and steady, and Credence's eyes meet half-way, unsure and startled.

     ”Okay”, he answers softly and worries if he should, if it's really okay. _Still feelin' like a liar. Liar. He doesn't need to know -_ That's why he says: ”Maybe, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt sighs, but there's fond sort of amusement in his tone. ”My, you are a quite stubborn one, Credence.”

     ”Sorry.”

     ”No, it wasn't - it's all right.”

(Queenie, Tina and Jacob follow this exchange with bated breath.)

Credence empties his cocoa, rinses the cup in the sink and wishes them goodnight. He can _feel_ their eyes on his back when he heads upstairs.

_Coward. Liar._

_Abomination._

_+_

The next mistake is not Credence's fault. Or so he would like to think, but as it is, Tina has probably reserved the right to _gloat._

He wakes up early, still feeling that hollow ache in his chest, but at least this time, he remembers where he is and why.  

_Small miracles._

Last night's adventure weighs on him; to his own dismay, his body feels sluggish, _heavy,_ and he's barely seeing straight when he finally gets downstairs. It's pretty much wonder he hasn't plummeted down the stairs on his face, if he's being serious. _'Cause that kinda sounds like him, now, doesn't it._  

Newt's in the kitchen; Tina reads morning paper by the table, sipping her coffee, and Credence hears Queenie and Jacob say goodbye as Jacob heads to town.

     ”Mornin'”, Credence says - or at least _tries_ to say, because he realizes a second later just how much he's slurring. _Whoa,_ he thinks dizzily, _that's probably not good,_ and suddenly, the room slides, and he's _falling -_

_” - dence? Credence!”_

     ” - _you're burnin' hot, Credence, why didn't you tell us you were ill?”_

 _Oh, wow, should've taken the coat,_ Credence remembers thinking before he faints.

+

Fever is not kind to Credence. Never has been; even in the orphanage, Mary Lou's mouth pursed into thin line and she used to glare at him with cold contempt like she thought Credence got sick on purpose, just to be an insufferable nuisance.

It scorches, burns every inch of his body, makes the skin unpleasantly sensitive to touch, he suffers from horrible, delirious nightmares - _hello, who might you be,_ shapeless figures and shadows lurking in the woods, _cackling,_ all around him, _just terror and loneliness -_

(He's not sure if he's _screaming in his sleep, '_ cause wow, wouldn't that be a new possibility.)

All the stress, heartbreak, careful treading and trying and _suffering_ that's been going on for the last few days culminate to _this;_ he's shivering under the blankets, wheezing and completely delirious.

He's distantly aware of Tina in his room; she adjusts the blankets, tries his forehead with her hand, clicks her tongue in worry and forces him to drink some water and takes his medicine.

     ”Gotta sweat it out the traditional way”, Queenie hollers from the hallway.       

Tina ignores her. ”Yell if it gets too much, yeah?” she says sternly to Credence.

     ”Mmh- _yeah...”_ Credence remembers slurring back at her and promptly passes out.

+

The next time he wakes up, it's dark outside the windows, and his mind is still reeling, trying to figure out what's going on, what time is it, how did he get here - not that he handles that very well;  thinking feels weird, fuzzy, not tangible enough to grasp or get context to anything.

What he does distantly realize is that someone is sitting next to his bed.

Credence blinks blearily and slurs: ” 'ewt? Wha' is it? Coffee - coffee beans 're 'nder table...”

It’s silent.

     ”It's quite all right, Credence, go back to sleep”, a familiar voice murmurs finally, sounding a bit rougher.

Credence breathes: ”Okay.”  

And he's completely out of it again.

+

When Credence wakes up, it's early morning, and his mouth is sand-paper dry, his eyes hurt, he feels kinda gross, but apparently fever has passed.

     ”Please don't say you told me so”, Credence asks miserably when Tina strides in to give him medicine.

     ”Well, you _should've_ taken the coat”, she answers briskly and keeps a suspicious eye on him that he drinks the whole potion.

     ”Yeah, okay, I should've”, Credence mumbles and obiedently empties the vial. ”Eugh.”

     ”It's for your own good.”

     ”It tastes awful.”  

     ”Tough.”

She's quiet for a moment and just stands there, scowling.

     ”What is it?” Credence asks, worried. ”Everything okay?”

     ”You know Newt was keeping an eye on you during the night?” she asks slowly, and Credence blinks. ”Your fever hadn't broken yet, you were so sick, we thought it might be best if someone was there with you - he volunteered, and we - ” She bites her lower lip, nervously. ”We thought it might help. With - y'know.”

She gestures awkwardly her head.

     ”He was _here?”_

     ”Yeah, that's what I'm saying.”

     ”Is _he_ okay?”

     ”I don't think you gotta worry about that, Credence”, Tina says, and Credence isn't sure what that means. ”I just thought you might wanna know. That he was here.”

Credence buries his face into his hands and groans. ”God, I hope I didn't do anythin' embarrassing.”

     ” _No_ \- you were really sick.”

     ”Sorry. For worrying you.”

     ”Pfft, nonsense, stop that.” The furrow between Tina's eyebrows smoothens. ”I'm just glad you're okay. Now, how would ya like some breakfast? Fair warning; Queenie's on the loose, she's ready to feed a whole army, so struggling’s useless just so you know.”

Credence’s okay with that; he's absolutely _starving._   

He wonders about the events that have happened during this long, long week. Amnesia. Staying at the Goldstein house. Faes. A wound that has to heal like any other, right? Maybe that’s right. Maybe he should just let it roll like that, on it’s own weight.

After a quick shower to scrub all the griminess away, Credence dresses and joins them in the kitchen.

Newt's brewing his morning tea while he leafs through _the Daily Prophet_ but he doesn't stiffen, when he spots Credence, who suddenly feels awkward and _clumsy._ What if he really has said something weird, done something weird while Newt was there?

     ”Good morning?” Credence says hesitantly.

     ”Morning”, Newt replies with a faint, but friendly smile. “How are you feeling?”

     ”Um... better, thanks.”

He wants to say many things, _all the things,_ not enough.

_Thank you for looking after me, you didn't have to do that._

_Why did you volunteer? Did I say something weird?_

**_Not enough._ **

     ”Glad to see you up!” Queenie chirps, presses a quick kiss on Credence's hair. ”How 'bout some eggs? Sunny side up or scrambled?”

     ”Scrambled, please. Oh, um, where's the coffee pan - ?”

     ”Here”, says Newt a little absent-mindedly and waves his wand; a mug floats in front of Credence, the pan pours steaming rich coffee in it, and two sugar cubes clink to the bottom.

Credence stares. The coffee has milk and _two sugars._ It's how he's taken the coffee ever since they left New York - the whole luxury of having _extra sugar,_ after Newt told him it's more than all right, that he can take as many as he wants, but - how did Newt _know now - ?_

     ”Oh”, Credence says with squeak. ”Um. Thank you, Mr. Scamander.”

     ”Newt.”

Has he even realized he's _done it?_

Credence observes Newt under his hair and comes to the conclusion that _no,_ he hasn't. He just... he's just _done it._ Just like that. Like it's second nature. _Like Credence did in the suitcase with the mandrake roots -_

Credence has absolutely _no_ idea what to do with this information.

     ”Any plans for today?” Tina asks while she steals a piece of bacon from Queenie's plate. The gesture seems to have been unnoticed by all others.

     ”Um, actually, I'd say so”, Newt says and finally seems to focus on the present from the newspaper. ”I'd like to pay visit to my house - fetch a few things.” His grin becomes lop-sided. ”Seeing that you insist on keeping me here.”  

Tina huffs: ”It's been just few _days,_ Newt, we like to be sure.”

     ”That I don't end up fainting in the suitcase, is that what you mean?” Newt asks, amused, but Credence thinks he can hear a certain _wryness_ under it all.

     ”Don't even get me started!”

     ”D'you need help with the thing, Newt?” Queenie asks sweetly and shovels more bacon on Credence's plate.

     ”Oh, I think I can manage quite well - ”

     ”’Cause Credence can help ya.”

Credence nearly chokes in his coffee.

A frown forms between Newt’s brows. “Well now, that’s rather presumptious to assume that for him, miss Queenie, he doesn’t _have_ to if he doesn’t want - “  

     ”You can show Credence where you live, Newt”, Queenie continues, ignoring both of them. She turns to Credence, and something _sad_ crosses her face, behind that fake cheery smile. ”It's a lovely house, Credence.”

     ”I bet it is”, Credence whispers with strangled voice.  

 _Don't,_ Credence thinks; his thought rings clear and desperate.  

Queenie's smile wavers, becomes choked. She turns toward the stove.  

     ”Would you like to?” Newt asks Credence, who suddenly feels like he's drowning. _Too fast. Too deep. Too dark. Breathe. Breathe._ He smells rich coffee, hot bacon grease, lavender. _Breathe._ ”You certainly _don't_ have to, not at all, you have no obligations toward me, I assure you.”

  _But what if it helps?_

_Seeing their home?_

There's that hope again; that toxic, persistent _hope_ that continues to gnaw and rise inside him.

     ”Okay.” Credence sets his fork down. ”If you're okay with me bein' there, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt's smile turns kind, warm, and seeing it sets dull ache in Credence's chest. ”Of course, you'd be more than welcome. And _really_ , Credence, still not giving up on that?”  

     ”I like being polite, Mr. Scamander.”

_And that's that._

_God, what did I get myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also apologising to Jacob for not including him earlier. ;_;  
> This is just getting longer, dammit! I think 8 chapters is enough...I hope. Let's keep our fingers crossed!


	6. the scamander house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence and Newt visit the house, and they have a conversation or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't update on the weekend, so I'm doing it now! I'm kinda scared of this fic, where it's going and how big it's gotten, but there's no turning back now! :D Thank you all so much for being so kind and supportive, it's seriously blowing my mind! <3

     ”Would you mind terribly if we Apparate there?”

     ”No, it’s okay.”

Newt nods, slightly raising an eyebrow - like he would like to ask something further, he hesitates again and finally sets his hand on Credence's shoulders. With that, the Goldstein country house shrinks around them, distorts and changes into a familiar yard.

A block of ice drops into Credence's gut.

_This was a bad idea,_ he thinks. _Again - again. Here, but not really._

     ”Nausea? Dizziness?” Newt asks, very nearly hovering, his gaze flickering up and down. ”I forgot to ask you, terribly sorry, have you Apparated before?”

     ”Yeah”, Credence croaks. ”Yeah, 'm fine.”

_Liar liar -_

Newt frowns. ”Oh, all right, but if - if you do feel awful, _tell_ me. You're still recovering...”

Credence doesn't argue and follows Newt to the house, his heart sinking further into the pit of his stomach. The house is so dark. _Lifeless. Empty._

Newt unlocks the door with a flick of a wand and heads in. _God,_ even the scent -

The familiar, _cozy_ scent of Newt's herbs, mint and lavender, a hint of lemon and cotton. _Clean. Safe._

_Home._

Bracing himself, Credence follows Newt - and nearly collides into the back of Newt's blue coat.

     ”Mr. Scamander?”

Newt's shoulders are tense, and the outside light shines on his face. His jaw's clenched, his skin paler under the freckles.

Credence grows worried. ”Are you okay?”

     ”Yes, thank you, I am, but - ” Newt pauses, rubs his mouth in deep thought. ”No, it's just a...” The lines on his forehead deepen. ”Nothing to worry about, Credence, I'm quite all right.”

Credence doesn't really believe Newt, because he's heard _that_ countless times before - once Newt told that very same thing when half of his face was covered in _blood._ So, _yeah,_ not really that believable _._

Newt clears his throat, fiddles with his sleeves and gestures the living room.

     ”Gathered a bit of dust now”, he says, sounding sheepish.

     ”It is really lovely”, Credence says and how _much_ he means it, how much he _misses_ this place.

Newt turns like he's surprised, his eyes crinkling in shy delight. ”Oh, thank you...you think so?”

     ”Yeah?”

Newt observes him curiously, and Credence lets him.

Finally Newt straightens, clears his throat again and leads Credence from living room to -

**-** to their bedroom.

Seeing it twists Credence's heart, _calm down. Focus._

     ”This isn't - ” Newt pauses and scowls, pursing his lips together. He grips the doorframe, his knuckles turning white. Credence’s heart thunders.

     ”Is... everything okay?”

     ”Yes, but... I don't quite recall what I - ” Newt snaps out of his thoughts and clears his throat. ”Moved them - probably in the study...” he mumbles. ”Please, do look around if you want, make yourself at home, this might take some time, chasing them down.”

     ”They're not alive, right?” Credence asks in a terribly attempt to make a joke. Newt looks surprised - and then he _laughs._

     ”They might as well be, stubborn buggers”, he chuckles. ”Might have to check the kitchen”, he ponders to himself, and disappears into that direction.

_Make yourself at home. Yeah._

Credence is left to his own devices, but he doesn't really mind; this is his opportunity to check he hasn't missed anything last time he was here - left a journal or clothes or something like that lying around. So he goes through the living room, laundry room, the bathroom, checking everything.

He nearly collides with Newt on the hallway, and he knows instantly _something's wrong._

Newt's expression has tightened, his eyes are wide, and he's _tense._

     ”Mr. Scamander...? Did you find 'em?” Credence asks carefully.

     ”Credence, have you ever - “ Newt clenches his molars together. His jaws draw a tense line.

     “Yeah...?”

     “Never mind, it’s silly.”

     “What?”

Newt sighs, rubs his mouth in a ragged gesture. “It’s just... have you had something that...you _know_ you are missing? Like something quite obvious. Like a...a thought, speeding away from you, and you _can’t_ catch it?”  

Credence's startled. Well, he really hasn't expected _that._ ”I, uh... couple of times, I think? What brought this on?”

Newt sighs, wrings his hands. ”Something feels...I'd call it _amiss,_ maybe. I don't know how to explain it, but something in here... _feels_ off.”

     ”It's the amnesia”, Credence says as gently as he can. ”I think it's normal, you know, part of the whole - ” he gestures his head, “ - package?”

     ”It’s just...I'm afraid it's... very unsettling. I’m not sure if...I’m absentminded, that’s certain, but this... I - think this is the first time it actually feels like I _am_ missing something.”

     ”Are you okay?”

Newt blinks owlishly, surprised as if he hasn't expected that sort of question.

     ”Yes, thank you. Just... trying to piece it together. Extremely badly, I might add.”

     ”It's okay, not to be okay, y'know”, Credence says tentatively. ”You might not remember, but... it was still traumatic and hard for you, so it’s okay to take time to recover.”

Warmth spills in Newt's green- _hazel-golden_ eyes, shines and changes into something very soft and kind.

     ”Thank you.”

     ”'s nothi - you're welcome. Can I help you look for them?”

     ”Certainly, I'd appreciate it. If you don't...mind dustiness, that is.”

Credence can’t help but to grin. ”I'm not sure what you're talkin' about, I've seen way worse in New York, so compared to that, this? Pure luxury.” He has no idea where this cheeriness is coming from. It feels fake, but he supposes it’s better than to mope.

     ”Is that so?” Newt asks, a faint grin tugging his mouth as well like he can’t help himself. ”How was that?”  

Credence thinks a little. ”Dirty. Smoky. Cold.” He still remembers how creaky and _unpleasant_ the orphanage was; gray, worn, _cold._ The smell of musty vegetables.

No heat, Mary Lou used to sneer at that and just threw some blankets on them before the temperature got too much for her.

     ”I found New York quite an experience, myself”, Newt murmurs. ”What did you like about it? While living there?”

The question surprises Credence - although it shouldn't, because this is _Newt._ Newt, who is honestly interested in hearing the answer.

After a minute of pondering the answer, Credence says: ”Central Park. I - I like the nature.”

The sunshine, filtering through the leaves - red and orange and green and then _none,_ the water... grass. It was a nice contrast between that and the tall, dark buildings and concrete and _smoke._

     ”Oh, fantastic, a little - safe space in the midst of all that. Did you... visit it often?”

     ”When I could, yeah. Not - not a whole lot, but after I finished my work.”

     ”What did you do, if you don't mind me asking?”

Credence hesitates, his heart jumping to his throat. ”Just handing out these - these little leaflets to people passin’ by.”

     ”On the street?”

     ”Yeah? Not that many read 'em or kept 'em. But...that was my job, so that’s what I did.”

Newt wrinkles his nose. ”Not the most pleasant of jobs, then?”

     ”Not on winters, no”, Credence laughs, surprising even himself and bows his head down shyly. ”It got kinda cold, yeah, in time.”

     ”Least you got fresh air?” Newt realizes his mistake and corrects himself: ”Oh, well, that's not exactly right, now is it -  less than fresh, but _outdoor_ air, would that count?”

     ”Sure”, Credence says, and _god,_ he's nearly overwhelmed by his love for this man.

     ”What - and you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable - what would you like to do? As in...work?” Newt asks tentatively as he's piling some books on the ground.

Credence bites his lower lip nervously. It's just a conversation - one they've had before, once upon a time, but... there's no harm in answering, right?

     ”When I - when I didn't _know_ about magic or wizards, I... I wanted to...sell flowers.” Credence's flush burns his ears.

     ”Oh, that sounds lovely.”

     ”They're pretty. Calming. They make people happy. Mostly.” Credence bows his head again bashfully. It used to be a simple dream, where nobody would hurt him. A peaceful thought during Credence's childhood and teenage years. ”Could even braid some daisies into Modesty's hair, when she - ”

He shuts up, startled and flustered, looks away. _Stupid, stupid._

Newt glances back at him, sensing that something new has risen ashore; something new and _bared._ Credence knows he'd like to ask, but he doesn't, because Newt _doesn't poke_ bleeding wounds.

     ”Sorry”, Credence mumbles, embarrassed. ”Got carried away.”

     ”'s all right. I mean, I have absolutely no room to talk, considering how much I prattle on about creatures, it gets quite boring to most people. So, no harm done.”  

They find the books in the garage - neither of them can drive any sort of vehicle, but before all of _this_ they found out it's a good place to store stuff, because they had vague amount of _stuff lying around._

Newt eyes the pile of books and scrolls.

     ”That all?” Credence asks curiously.

     ”Seems to be...yes, that'll do, I think. Thank you, Credence.”

They share a smile; a real smile, and for one heartbeat it feels like before. _Home, understanding, companionship._

It just _is._

It doesn't stop the hurting, not really; a dull ache in his jaw, in his bones, but... but this is the present, and Credence can't change it. He can just _accept_ it as it is. He's grateful that Newt is still here, alive and well, still smiling, still talking, still full of passion and quiet determination and such bravery ready to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.

_This is way more than I could ever ask for._

     ”We should...head back”, Newt murmurs, his gaze flickering back and forth from Credence.

     ”It's really a cozy place, Mr. Scamander.”   

Newt stops, surprised. ”W - well, it's - it belonged to my grandparents, so after they passed away, the house was passed to me.”

_I know. You have two apple trees in the back you named after them._

     ”What d'you like about it?”

Newt hums, gazes at the ceiling as he weighs the options. ”The quiet mostly, I suppose? The scent of the garden. The meadow, just - just over that fence. I used to come here, covered in twigs and leaves. My grandparents did not find that very...agreeable.”

     ”So...this seems like a special place?”  

     ”I'd say so, yes.” Newt looks _happy._ His smile is a private one, inwards, but happy. ”Many wonderful memories. My grandmother once nursed an injured knarl back to health.”

     ”So it...it runs in the family?”

Newt chuckles. ”Yes, I suppose that's fair.”

A silence falls between them, but it's not tense nor awkward.

Gathering his courage, Credence speaks up first: ”Thanks...that I got to see this.”

_Even though I don't live there anymore, it was still kinda nice to..._

To what?

_Let go? To have closure?_ Is that what this is? Let his pain soften into fond nostalgia, into a sore, closed wound, _into a pink_ scar? Is that what is _happening?_

_Is Credence letting go?_

The realization hits him like a sledgehammer; it devastates him, seizes him by the very roots, and cold horror douses him. _Cracks him open._  

_Are your feelings really that weak?_

_Do you even **care?**_

Hot blood drains from Credence's face. _No, that's not what this is, it's not - !_

He feels _sick._

Newt tenses, and he’s not smiling anymore.

     ”Credence? What's wrong? Are you feeling ill? Are you hurt?”

Credence starts to tremble. _I'm letting him go. I'm really letting him go..._

The thought rings in his head, _echoes_ in his skull, and he _hates it,_ hates himself, _is this allowed, I'm horrible, he's happy now - STOP IT -_

His breathing grows harsh, dry gasps -

     ” - dence?”

_Newt is here._

_Don't worry him._

With great, wrenching effort, Credence reels back, gathers his self-control and forces himself to look at Newt. It feels too much like _Obscurial_ crawling in his skin.

     ”S - sorry”, he says, _tries to say,_ the word trips and scalds, and _hold on. Just a moment -_

Newt stares at him, his forehead creased in worry and his hand hovering near Credence like he’s afraid to touch him. ”What's wrong? Are you hurting? We can leave - are you all right?”

_No,_ is the first, instinctive answer that pops into Credence's mind, but in truth, he feels like everything he has tried to adjust, every thought he's had in these few days, has exploded, shattered and _crashed._

     ”Could we?” he asks instead. ”Leave, I mean. I - I'm sorry, I dunno what came over - ”

     ”Well, you haven't had it easy during this time I have known you”, Newt remarks, still observing him, concerned. ”We can head back. Take my hand?”

_Take my hand._

_Credence is so tired._

Credence takes Newt's hand. They Apparate. Credence thinks: _This is the book closing, right...?_

And he lets go of Newt's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Credence can't catch a break. But the ending is happy, I swear!


	7. the lady of the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT HAPPENS.  
> This makes me super nervous, I totally didn't know that the story would head into this direction, but I'm kinda proud of it, at the same time, if that makes sense. Anyway, if you've stuck this far, thank you. Your support is amazing and appreciated so much.

_He's happy._

_Newt's happy and moving on and it's past now._

Credence has locked himself into his room and cried hot, bitter tears, clenched his teeth, grinds his molars together and _cried and cried and cried in_ utter, completely agony and _loss_ until his body can't produce anymore fresh tears.

He's completely drained.

_I'm really letting him go._

Letting all that’s happened to wash through him and pour out of him.

_Acceptance._

No one ever told him _acceptance_ would hurt so much.

But that's what it is, isn't it?

Credence would always remember their time with warmth and longing and fond affection and he would _cherish_ it. But... he would also heal. He would heal, fix himself, _slowly move on._ Slowly, but maybe eventually. No matter how much he wants to howl and scream and _trash,_ he just...slumps back on the bed.

_Newt's gonna be so happy._

Credence smiles through tears.

_It's okay._

+

The Goldstein country house holds a strange feeling that day. It's silent - but silent in a way that doesn't comfort nor bring peace. No, it's quiet and _gray_ with shadows and rain clouds.  

     ”Queenie's got a migraine”, Tina explains when Credence finally dares to come out of his room. ”Hasn’t apparently slept very well.”

_It’s probably my fault._ Credence’s thoughts haven’t been exactly kind; too loud, too annoying, prickling and unbearable -

     ”No, Credence”, Tina sighs. She's got heavy weariness around her eyes. She rubs the bridge of her nose like she's got a headache, too. ”It's not your fault.”

Credence winces. ”Sorry.” 

     ”No, it's fine - ” Tina sighs again, buries her fingers into her hair. ”No, _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't - it's okay, really. I'm just tired.”

Feels like everyone under the roof is tired. _Drained._

Everyone but Newt, who doesn’t really know why.

Credence sits gingerly beside Tina. It’s so strangely quiet. _Still._

They are just... _sitting,_ like they are two tired and scarred soldiers, just _existing_ in this hour.

     “I’m not gonna ask”, Tina says quietly. “You don’t have to tell me what happened at the house if you don’t want to. ‘s okay.”

     “Thank you.” Credence appreciates it; he’s not ready to talk about it yet. “Can I do something? Anything?”

Tina hesitates, just a _fraction._

     “Well...’cause Queenie’s out of it, if you don’t mind goin’ shopping? Just...milk and eggs, bread, that sorta thing?”

     “No. I - it’s okay, I’ll go.”

Credence’s almost glad; he’s restless, energy buzzing in his skin, he needs to do something. _Get out of the house._ Do something.

Tina offers him a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back, I swear.” 

     “It’s not a big deal.”

     “I dunno if I can make French toast as good as Queenie, but I promise to try.”

     “Sounds good.”

+

Credence tries to enjoy walking to the nearest village. He knows the road pretty well - the gravel crunches under his shoes, wind’s cold, refreshing.

He’s so _tired._

This is really the best thing, isn’t it?

He can’t undo what’s been done, he can’t force the faes to fix this, he can’t return Newt’s memories, and this is really the best choice, the best outcome.

Just...leave it and let Newt go forward.

_Yeah._

The sense of loss stings again, but Credence pushes it away. 

After arriving to the village - called Greenidge Hall or something along those lines, Credence isn’t sure - he heads toward the market. It’s a chilly, gray afternoon, but there are still a small crowd looking through the stands.

He buys salted butter and cheese from a jovial guy in a thick jacket and turns toward the honey stand, when someone grabs his arm.

Startled, Credence turns to face an elderly woman - thin and worried, and a sickening jolt, Credence realizes that _he knows this woman._

Mrs Colton.

The one, who first spoke to them about the specters since the people around thought of them as some kind of specialists. _It feels like forever ago..._

     “Mr. Bane”, she whispers, her eyes terribly wide and wet. “Did you stop it? Have you learnt anything? About the - the lights?”

Credence remembers, and feels heavy weight settle into his gut. Why he and Newt were in the woods in the first place. Why they were investigating the woods.

How can he tell her? _Have you learned anything, anything - yeah, everything and it had a big price._

_Did you stop it?_

No, _I don’t know how -_

Mrs. Colton blinks feverishly at him. ”Haven’t learnt anything?” she asks shakily, her fingers suddenly digging into Credence’s arm. ”W - what the - the lights were?”

     ”We - had a lil’ setback, ma’am”, he explains hesitantly and winces when the woman pales.

     ”Setback?” she repeats with a shrill voice. ”Mr. Bane, it’s not done, it’s gotten _worse,_ the specters are now _in touch_ with my Maggie, my daughter - that’s not a setback! You promised!”

     “What?” Credence startles. “What’s wrong with your daughter?”

Mrs. Colton’s lips tremble.

     ”O - out of it, sir, so much. Doesn’t talk any sense, just nonsense it is! Started about a - a four days ago? Scares my little boy half to death with her chanting!”

_”Chanting?”_

Mrs. Colton nods, her eyes glazed.

     ”Yes, sir, like witchcraft it is, sir, dunno what to think of it - but it’s so frightening, sir, very frightening, indeed - at our wits end we are!” Her grip is like a vice. ”T - then the lights, at night, sir. At our window. Dunno what to do - have you found out anything? Before your...setback?”

_The faes?_

But they punished Newt and Credence for ‘interfering’, tainting the grounds...

What’s this girl got to do with it?

     ”Could - could I see her, ma’am?”

Mrs. Colton’s eyes widen - and then she nods.

She leads Credence to her house - a cosy, sturdy brick house with nice flower pots on stone steps - and to her daughter.

Maggie sits in an arm chair, gripping the sides with white knuckles, the muscles in her throat clenched, her eyes wide, unblinking and glassy. She looks _fragile,_ terribly ill. 

She’s murmuring erratically under her breath, so fast, so fleeting like her life depends on it, that Credence can’t make out what she’s saying.

Hesitating, he kneels beside her and tries to concentrate on her soft voice.

     ” - not enough. Not there. Too dark. Not real. Not enough. Not there. Too dark. Give. Give. Ours.”

She swallows. Credence can practically hear how dry her mouth is.

     ”Why is she saying all of that?” Mrs. Colton moans, anxiously wringing her hands.

     ”I don’t know.”

Credence really doesn’t.

Maggie’s head lolls toward him, her unseeing, hollow eyes staring straight into his, like needles and knives.

     ”Belong to us. To us. Chosen, too bright for hills not like yours. Chosen. Ours. Ours. Ours.”

Mrs. Colton starts to cry silently.

Credence, on the other hand, gapes at Maggie’s helpless, pallid face and thinks feverishly.

What can he do? What is he able to do?

_Wait._

_Ours?_

Almost shaking with adrenaline, Credence reaches mentally... There. He can feel it - right there, not that strong, but... it’s _there._

_Their_ magic pulling and gnawing.

It’s them all right. Thin and uneven around the edges, but them all the same.

But what the hell for? What’s going on here?

He and Newt have interfered - not that they meant to, but they have, and...now Newt is without memories, and Credence, an Obscurial, is too much for them, and this girl..?

Has it all been a really elaborate plan...?

     ”Is she talkin’ to spirits?” Mrs. Colton asks, scared.

     ”I’m not sure, ma’am. I just...I’m thinkin’.”

Suddenly Maggie shrieks, and Credence has never heard anyone scream like that; it’s like a chorus of girls shrieking and screeching in utter primal rage; she’s thrown back against the chair, her mouth gaping wide open and she’s screaming _and screaming -_

     ”Make her stop!” Mrs. Colton begs, crying into her hands. ”Oh, Maggie, stop, please, stop - ”

But Credence is frozen. He stares in horror at the girl’s furious face; twisted and broken in a way that’s not even _human -_

_Oh._

He swallows thickly. _So that’s why._

He stands up quickly, snaps his fingers, and the girl slumps limply into the chair, in deep, dreamless sleep. He hopes it’s peaceful for her.

     ”What did you do?” Mrs. Colton asks nervously, peering behind him.

     ”She - um, tired herself out”, Credence lies and feels hopelessness and panic reach his throat. No time. He has to move. ”Don’t move her, okay? I - I think I might know what’s wrong. Don’t do anything to her - just - let her be, okay? I’ll be back.”

Mrs. Colton studies him. ”Please do, Mr. Bane”, she finally whispers and Credence rushes out.

+

He runs, runs _, runs._

Wind tears at his robe, whips his cheeks, he has to run, right now. He can help. He might’ve ruined everything else, but this, he can do this.

He might be too late to save Newt’s memories - punishment, so ain’t that something - but he knows he can help the girl.

He just might be able to save _someone_.

He just wishes half-heartedly they won’t slaughter him first - he promised after all. He promised he wouldn’t, and now he’s overstepping, hasn’t earned a place, _doesn’t belong so -_

_\- just go._

He tears down the trodden path, and instantly the ancient magic pricks and needles at his skin through clothes and robes.

They know he’s here.

Credence struggles to contain his rising panic, breathes deeply and tries to navigate to the meadow.

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for intruding again, but you’re not playing fair._ Faes don’t play fair, cruel trickery, Newt called it, but they still play by some sort of rules. And _these..._

Yellow autumn light darkens around him. Shadows spread, engulf him.

     _”We told you not to return, abomination”_ , a voice hisses.

     _”You are not welcome here, filth_ ”, another one snarls.

     _”Tainting, tainting, twisting our magic, twisting it!”_

 Credence draws a shaky breath. It comes out white and frosty.

Some small part of him - the one who has always been afraid and uncertain, terrified of angering people, shrinks and bows back, but... but he can’t. Not now.

He can _help_.

      ”I know. And I’m sorry. But I’m not gonna let you ruin that girl’s life.”

     _”Ruin? Ruin?”_

     _”Ruining, he calls it...”_

_”Who is ruining anything? You, you are...everyone else is happy, happy that your lover got away, got away, now didn’t he...?”_

Don’t fall for it. Don’t fall for it. Just breathe. You can do this.

     ”Why are you tormenting Maggie? She broke no rules.”

The voices cackle, gleeful and screeching. _”No rules? How would you know, little Barebone, parasite of all?”_

The branches snap, and a presence - heavy, so impossibly old - retreats and wells around him, circling. Credence has never in his life felt so trapped, so alone than in that moment.

_Being a prey._

_”Why do you care what happens to a silly human girl?”_ another voice whispers sweetly. It makes Credence sick. _”It is just our way, little Barebone. They need us, our forest. They need and we answer. Is that a sin?”_

     ”She hasn’t consented”, Credence chokes out. ”She doesn’t know, she has no idea about any deal whatsoever, okay - ”

_”That was not part of the deal, not the deal we made, in words, in blood, in magic!”_ the chorus screeches. Pain rings through Credence’s head. No. Stand up. Keep standing. _”She is ours! The mother, crying and sobbing, to keep this one alive, to have her breathing and alive and here and whole, and we did! Now eighteen summers have passed, she is ours!”_

     ”Get out of her head.”

_”That is not our fault!”_ the shrieks grow louder, piercing. _”Not our fault! You marched, like you belong, and you twisted it! It’s broken! Tainted and broken, our connection! How dare you, how dare you lay a claim to anything - !”_

_What? My fault?_

Credence starts to tremble. What does that mean? He hasn’t even met Maggie before this, so how would they even - ?

At that point, a new voice speaks:

     ”Let him come forward.”

It’s soft, more real, if that makes any sort of sense to Credence. Almost like human, but not...not quite. Like something’s...off balance.

Credence doesn’t move. He can’t.

The voice laughs. Too musical. _Wrong._

     ”Oh, fine, little Obscurial.” Leaves rustle. Shadows deepen, and something...no, _someone_ slithers into pale light. Credence gapes, tries to understand what his eyes are telling him, like he can’t really comprehend with rational thinking what he’s currently seeing.

The figure is there, but in the same time, not. Thin and see-through, eyes burning like red flames, mouth thin and very wide.

That mouth opens, and to Credence’s horror, he realizes that this being is _laughing._

     ”Surprised, are you, little Barebone? And here I made myself pretty and fancy for you.”

Hot bile rises into Credence’s mouth. He isn’t sure if he’s ever seen anything that has terrified him more than this moment.

     “I am called the Lady of the Woods.”

     ”L - let her be, okay? Maggie. She - she doesn’t know what’s going on, she had no say in the deal - ”

     ”Deal is a deal, little Barebone”, the Lady of the Woods reply, amused. ”A word once given cannot be broken. Surely you know this.”

Unbreakable Vow in a way. Credence remembers reading about that, too.

Wait.

_Magic is magic, right?_ Jacob’s words. _It’s not that different, right?_

     ”But she gave no word in it. Just - just like Newt gave no word.”

The Lady’s eyes glint. She’s playing with him. _Toying._

     ”Details”, she replies. ”How do you wish to proceed, little Barebone? We seem to be at a stalemate. That girl is promised to us. To me. To the forest. Her mortal family has already enjoyed her company for eighteen years, and that is plenty time for their mortal lives. She is ours now. So we tried to call her. Mind is such a fragile thing, in the end. Ours. As for your lover... You meddled. You are meddling in our things, Obscurial, in our deals. Twisting and breaking our magic, our connection. And that went wrong, why she is less than whole now.”

 Credence gets the strange impression she’s wrinkling her nose in distaste.

     ”But we are not here for empty chatter, are we?” she purrs. ”What will you do now?”  

     ”What d’you mean?” Credence hears himself ask over the thundering of his heart. His knees tremble. He’s numb. _Run run run run run -_

She laughs; it’s an awful sound. Cackling. ”How about we play a game?”

_Oh no._ This is such a bad idea. Credence knows; even before he’d known magic exists, making deals with beings like _this_ is absolutely a bad idea. One that could potentially end up worse than _dying._

     ”How?”

     ”If you win... we let the girl go.” The Lady sighs reluctantly. ”But if you lose, you take her place.”

_This or that. One for the other._

That’s the big thing, isn’t it?

Credence couldn’t help Newt. Couldn’t help Modesty. He couldn’t help _anyone_.

But he _can_ help Maggie.

     “You can’t help Newt?”

The Lady laughs again. “He does not need helping nor such things. Even if he did, we cannot. You twist magic, so everything has gone less than how we planned.”

     “Meaning - you _didn’t mean_ to Newt to lose his memories?”

     “It was not intended, necessarily”, the Lady admits after a short pause, “but it is what the collision made and for that I feel no regret nor remorse. Benefits him and teaches you a lesson not to interfere with things that are higher than you.”

_It was not intended._

Credence starts to shake. Tremble all over. _It was not intended._ Numbness overtakes him, like ice in veins. The heart pumps, pumps faster, _faster,_ his muscles _stretch, fade -_

Credence _howls._

It shakes the very _forest._

+

Less than half a mile behind Credence, Queenie jumps up from the bed, her eyes wild in fear.

+

Being in Obscurial form is a sort of _storm._

No grasp, nothing _tangible._

Just brutal force, destruction.

_A tornado._

Credence _screams;_ all of his anger, fury, sorrow, frustration, relief, _everything_ just rushes out of him, he _screams_ because it all feels like _nothing,_ like he has accomplished _nothing,_ he has _done nothing -_

_\- no, that’s not right - everything I did has been done wrong -_

_I interfered._

_That’s why - that’s what they were talking about and I didn’t get it -_

_My magic against his, against theirs, it exploded, burning and painful -_

Too much.

_He screams._

His form scatters into a black mist, stretches, fades, _grows._

The faes _screech_ in the trees, but this time...

The ice cold air tastes like _fear._

Everything happens very fast or very slowly. Credence isn’t sure what the difference is, but it’s happening, right now. Blurried and too sharp simultaneously.

Credence, the Obscurus, _both,_ tears and whirls and rages in the meadow; red leaves dance around him, shadows spread from tree to tree. The faes screech and snarl, but do not scatter; Credence can feel their magic still welling among the treeline.

And the Lady.

She stands there, unmoving, unblinking, her eyes hollow and dark.

     ”Unbecoming, little parasite, you do not win any favors with such disgraceful behavior”, she hisses between her teeth.

Credence shifts and wells back, and he shrieks at her.  

     ” _Credence!”_ a familiar scream, this time more terrified than Credence has ever heard it; this much he realizes through the dense fog that is himself. Tina and Queenie stumble through the branches to the meadow, their faces white, their hair sticking out and behind them -

_-_ Credence stops breathing.

The Obscurial almost stops.

Newt.

_Newt_?

Horror sinks into Credence; and erratic static races through the Obscurus form. No, no, _no, Newt can’t see this, can’t see me, not now, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to know, he doesn’t know what’s going on, he CAN’T -_

The faes flicker between the branches, like eerie shadow figures; dark and white specters, giggling and hissing and snarling, filling the freezing air with noise, _noise, so much NOISE -_

   But then he sees it.

The Lady’s eyes flash silver, and then, he sees a glint of something - like -

    ”You.” The Lady bares her teeth. Sharp fangs. ”Aren’t you a smart one, blue coat. Such a very clever little head. Iron and _silver_.”

     ”I am sorry”, Credence hears Newt’s answer - breathless and tense. ”So very sorry. I came here for Credence.”

The Lady laughs; shrieking and now more like the fae around her than herself.

     ”The _parasite._ You would not if you knew.”

Newt lifts his chin defiantly.

     ”Nevertheless, I want to help him. Please.”

     ”He has no place for such sweet words, bluecoat.”

She moves.

_-_ she doesn’t move like a human, jagged, not there, _jumping_ from shadow to shadow _-_

_-_ she races across the field toward Newt, her claws curled to tear his throat out, and Credence screams: ” _PLEASE_ _DON’T!”_

He moves on instinct; rushes between Newt and the Lady _-_  

A loud boom shakes the forest by the very roots. Everything _shrieks._

A blinding blue-white-white light flashes, burns their eyelids, and then _\- silence._

Silence, ringing, awful, _skittering_ around the treeline - someone’s _shouting,_ robes fluttering -

Credence’s head reels. Everything grows white and fuzzy, blurry around the edges. His last thought is: _Newt...?_

And then passes out.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I gave Credence a fake surname - he's supposed to be in hiding, after all!


	8. unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, they come to conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd update this next week, but I'm going for a trip tomorrow, so I managed to finish this early! :D

Voices trickle into Credence’s conciousness.

He feels sluggish, slow, pleasantly languid, like he’s floating. Slowly, he opens his eyes, blinking to the rather familiar ceiling. It’s not the Scamander house, but the Goldstein guest room; dimly lit with a small lamp on the nightstand, darkness outside the frosty window.

Credence blinks again, trying to shake off the last remnants of the drowsiness dragging him in, under all the heavy, comfortable blankets and sweet warmth.

     ”Credence?”

It’s Newt, sitting by his bed. He looks worn; haggard, tired. His eyes are bright, feverish, his jaw tense.

     ”Ne - Mr. Scamander?” Credence ask hoarsely, and something convulses in Newt’s expression.

     ”Newt. It’s - it’s Newt.” He swallows thickly and his gaze drifts to Credence. ”Credence... I have caused you suffering and pain beyond what you could ever deserve, and... I am so, _so_ sorry - ”

     ”Mr. Scamander?”

     ”It’s Newt. Credence, love, it’s _me.”_ Newt’s smile is a broken thing, painful and shattered. ”I remember.”

_I remember._

For a moment Credence can’t move. Can’t comprehend what he’s hearing. If he’s even hearing it right. What he’s hoped and prayed and wished so painfully to hear, and now he hears it, thinks that’s _what_ he’s hearing, and - everything seems to collapse in his chest.

     ”You remember?” he whispers, lips trembling. _”Really?”_

Newt nods, his eyes shining, crinkling, and bare despair, longing crash on his features. ”I do.”

Credence swallows.

     ”What - what was the first thing you said to me, when we met?” he asks, breathless, crippled with anxiety and disbelief and _please work, please be happening...please don’t be a dream..._

Newt doesn’t hesitate, squares his shoulders, stops wringing his fingers.

     ”In the subway in New York?” he asks gently, that familiar light reflecting back at Credence. ”I - I asked you not to be afraid of me. That I wouldn’t hurt you. I...I asked if I could come closer to you... and I told you about what...what happened to the girl in Sudan.”

     ”And Queenie didn’t tell you that?”

     ” _What?_ No, Credence, of course not, I swear it on my soul, she didn’t, I remember everything”, Newt insists almost fiercely, his eyes holding Credence’s, and he’s...not lying. He’s telling _the truth_.

_He’s telling the truth._

Newt falters, agony carved on his face despite a trembling smile.

     ”I remember we have been together for nearly a year now. It will be a year in - two weeks, officially. You confessed to me first and you were so impossibly brave - it was after Jacob’s birthday party, in the garden, and you were _shaking,_ and I couldn’t - couldn’t believe someone as magnificent as you could ever feel that way about me. But I haven’t regretted any of it, not _once.”_

He swallows, draws another shaky breath. 

     “I remember you live with me. You like to sleep on the wall side of the bed, close to me, because you told me that’s where you feel the safest, away from the door. You love drawing; especially sketching. You - you named the newest moon calves, told me you picked the names from the Hobbit. And I thought it was absolutely brilliant.”

“You hum old nursery rhymes to the newborn creatures the way you used to hum to Modesty. You love the scent of lavender, in soaps and linen, but you’re not sure if you should waste money on it even though it’s more than all right. I _remember_ , Credence, and I’m so impossibly sorry I put you through that hell, I can’t even imagine how awful that must have been - I - I asked such painful, ignorant things, I poked and prodded, you came with me _to our house - ”_

     ”Newt - Newt - _stop it!”_

Newt stops, clenches jaw, draws a shaky inhale as if expecting an explosion.

     ”I do not want to presume”, the wizard murmurs, his voice lower, a bit rougher around the vowels. “I completely understand if you need time to reconsider - “

Credence abandons all care and surges forward to kiss Newt.

Startled Newt breathes against Credence’s lips, then reaches to grip the base of Credence’s skull, cradling Credence’s head with both, warm hands. They kiss in utter relief at finding each other again; mouths, tongues sliding together with practised ease, familiar intimacy, they sink into each other _-_

_Finally._

After such a long time, the world feels like whole again. Credence ends up straddling Newt’s lap, clinging onto him for dear life.

     ”I found you”, Newt murmurs roughly, resting his forehead against Credence’s. ”I’m so sorry it took so very long, but I remember...I’m so sorry, love...”

     ”‘s okay”, Credence whispers through tears, smiling breathlessly, his fingers carding into Newt’s hair, ”it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” He wraps his arms tightly around Newt, buries his face into the crook of Newt’s neck. ”You’re here now. You’re _here..._ ”

Newt’s embrace is tight, like he’s trying to meld them together, fuse them together, body and soul. His calloused, warm hand grips the nape of Credence’s neck, and he inhales deeply, like his lungs aren’t working properly. 

     ”I missed you”, he whispers, almost reverently against Credence’s throat. ”I missed you, so deeply, I couldn’t be certain why or what is was, but seeing you - you flinch away and dart glances and look in pain, I didn’t know why, but it hurt, I was _worried_ \- ” His trembling hands settle on Credence’s hips, rough callouses burning welts on his sensitive skin, rubbing the hip bones. ”I’m so sorry.”

     ”Stop sayin’ that”, Credence laughs shakily, nudging Newt with his nose, his hands gently stroking Newt’s neck. ”Seriously, it’s - it’s okay now. It’s okay.”

Newt frowns. ”It’s not, I _hurt_ you - “

     ”It did hurt, yeah, but...it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. It wasn’t on purpose. ‘s okay.”

Newt doesn’t really seem to agree with that; he observes Credence’s face, gauges him feverishly, _desperately._

     “I’m still sorry. Hurting you...that’s what I swore I would _never_ do, ever, and it’s exactly what I _did...”_

     “No. Listen to me, okay? How could’ve you known? You lost your _memories._ It’s okay _,_ Newt. You were never cruel, never malicious, okay? You remember now, that’s what matters.”

Newt eyes him, sighs and pulls Credence closer, embraces him again.

     ”It feels good to be home again”, he murmurs, his lips touching Credence’s collarbone. ”To be with you.”

Credence rests his cheek on top of Newt’s head. “Yeah. I know.”

They enjoy each other’s closeness for a moment, re-acquainting themselves with each other’s bodies, familiar touches, mapping out each rise and fall with trembling fingers, before Credence forces himself to part so he can gaze at Newt.

     ”What happened?” he asks, his fingers tugging gently Newt’s tousled hair. ”You came to the clearing, right?”

Clear green in Newt’s eyes darken.

     ”Yes, we - we did. Back at the house, Queenie was half hysterical; she heard voices from the forest, human and _not_ , and said something has happened to you. She said something about fairies, and I wasn’t sure at that point what it was about - what it was _really_ about. I was afraid for you - that you were in trouble because you chased the Niffler. So I took some iron and silver to - for protection, I suppose.” Newt bows his head sheepishly. ”I really had no idea what I was doing, to be honest.”

     ”You saw the Lady, right?”

     ”Yes, I did, she wasn’t...very pleased.”

     ”She _attacked_ you.”

Newt’s expression softens into a warm, genuine smile. ”She did - will you allow me to explain? I try to tell everything as best as I can.”

Credence nods, a little worried now. Newt senses it and he draws comforting patterns with his thumb on Credence’s thigh.

     ”Easy. Everything is all right, Credence, I swear”, he murmurs, presses a slow, but chaste kiss on Credence’s lips. Slowly, inch by inch, Credence relaxes, becomes pliant under Newt’s familiar touch. Breathes deeply. _Relaxes._

     ”You were in Obscurial form”, Newt starts quietly. ”She must have been very unpleasant and out of line for you to lose control. I know, she was quite... hard to converse with.”

     ”You know about Maggie? In Greenidge Hall?”

     ”Yes, Mrs. Colton’s daughter, I remember.” Newt tilts his head to gaze warmly at Credence, drinking everything in a way that makes Credence’s cheeks heat up. ”She’s fine, Credence. Alive and well. Well, she is a bit tired, but that’s understandable, after having faes tormenting her Merlin knows how long.”

     ”They’re okay? Mrs. Colton and her son, too?”

     ”Yes, all of them. No more specters or chanting. Apparently the Lady of the Woods was extremely determined to get this deal made.”

     ”What made her back off?”

Amusement flickers in Newt’s expression.

     ”You did, dear.” Then, his smile fades. ”What happened the first time we ventured into the forest... the Lady was already trying to seduce miss Maggie there. We were there investigating, and your immense magical power distorted her attempts to establish the old blood connection to miss Maggie - not that strong to begin with, because ‘the deal’ was made when Mrs. Colton was pregnant. And that’s what caused the backlash for the first time, a collision of raw magical energy and that...made me forget.”

     ”Oh”, Credence murmurs, letting his head fall on Newt’s shoulder.

     ”We couldn’t have known. Fae magic is...very similar as ours, but it doesn’t really play by the same principles”, Newt murmurs, stroking gently Credence’s nape. ”It caused a reaction - especially in the making of a complicated spell, for the lack of a better word.”

     ”And they were angry.”

     ”Very much so. We interfered, and Obscurial...frightens them. Too unpredictable, too wild, and they do not like when things and people are wilder than them. Made them very uneasy.”

     ”Noticed that, yeah.”

     ”I wasn’t playing it light when I said they have a tendency to use very cruel kind of trickery. And you were there alone facing them. _Credence -_ ”

     ”I - I made it. It’s okay. They let me go the first time.”

     ”Doesn’t mean it was easy. Either time. Things with faes rarely are so unequivocal, sadly.” Newt cradles Credence’s cheek with his palm, thumb brushing tenderly Credence’s cheekbone. ”Want to hear the rest, love?”

     ”Yes, please.”

     ”We came to the clearing, and you were there. Of course, I’d imagine seeing me wasn’t exactly...pleasant for the Lady, especially wearing iron and silver, and she was quite...annoyed how the whole thing had gone. No miss Maggie, no deal, no reward. And us, waltzing in. So, she...attacked.”

     ”Although you were wearin’ all that stuff?”

     ”Yes, they feel as if they are...owed, in a sense, that they are justified if things wander in their forest. And things hadn’t gone like they were supposed to. So her instinct was to lash out. You tried to prevent that, dashed between me and her - which we have to talk about, I think I lost half a decade from my life span - and all that magic and emotion crashed into one, rather violent eruption.”

  Credence grimaces. ”The similar kind as the first time?”

     ”I’d imagine so. You were knocked out cold, I got hit by the magical outburst and that shook the memories loose. And the Lady...was... well, I’m not sure, actually. She slithered back deep into the forest with rest of her court. _But_ some good news, though;  that raw burst of magical energy destroyed her mental connection to miss Maggie - she’s not exactly free, not in a way that would give her relief , so... I suggested to Mrs. Colton that it would preferable for them to move the area completely - and until they can leave, bar the windows and doors with iron and silver. And salt. She wasn’t completely against the idea.”

     ”So - so they’re okay? Really?”

     ”Really really.”

     ”Thank God.” Credence lifts his head. ”Won’t they...be mad? The faes, I mean? You know, pull a revenge on us?”  

     ”They are moody, yes, but thankfully not impossible to appease”, Newt calms him. ”They are fickle in that way. We will leave some... gifts to them for a while and come back after a suitably long time.”

     ”You think that’ll work?”

     ”Not hundred per cent sure, no, but... I’m quite willing to try?”

Credence thinks that’s the best they will get. ”Okay.”

Comfortable silence lulls around them.

Newt seems to be unwilling to part from Credence; he pulls him by the hips closer, and Credence adjusts his position better on Newt’s lap and takes Newt’s head between his trembling, scarred palms.

It’s really Newt, all golden freckles, tanned skin, bronze glow on the beautiful hollows of his cheekbones. God, he really thought he would never get to experience this again.

     ”I love you, Credence”, Newt whispers, rough and fierce under hoarse tone, his eyes so bright, ”so very deeply. Desperately so. And I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

     ”The rest of your life? C’mon...” Credence presses his forehead against Newt’s and laughs breathlessly.

     “I definitely will.”  

     “I love you, too.”

Newt noses, nuzzles affectionately Credence’s cheek down to his throat and just...holds him. It’s blissful; this connection, intimate and effortless. Newt’s warmth seeps into Credence’s skin through his thin top, comforting and familiar.

     ”Do you want to talk about it?” Newt whispers quietly, as if afraid of breaking the moment.

     “No”, Credence mumbles. “Not right now.”

     “All right.” Newt lifts gently Credence’s chin with his index finger and smiles. Dimples blossom in sight, his freckles golden in the dim light. Credence closes the distance between them and kisses him. Again, again, _again._

Relief floods into his brain every time Newt kisses him back just as easily, just as softly as before _all of this._

Doesn’t say _hello, who might you be._

This is _Newt,_ who says _I remember, it’s me._

+

Credence is deemed well enough to get up in a few hours; Tina throws her arms around him, hugs him with such force it nearly makes Credence light-headed.

     “Of all things - what, you just had to run into the woods, just like that, even though you _knew_ what was in there?” Tina sobs into Credence’s shoulder. “You, mister, are _too reckless,_ and _oh,_ what if something’d happened to _you?”_

     “I’m okay”, Credence says and pats her back clumsily. “Seriously. I am.”

Sniffling Tina retreats, and even though her eyes are wet, her gaze is sharp. “Are you? I mean, d’you _feel_ fine? After the whole thing - the _stress,_ it was _crazy_ out there _\- “_

     “I am”, Credence says and isn’t that stunned to realize he’s actually telling the truth. Maybe for the first time in a while. He offers her a faint grin. “I really am. Thank you. For - for coming after me.”

     “Oh, you’re welcome, honey”, Queenie chirps somewhere behind Tina, and she’s beaming despite dark circles around her eyes. “Glad to help. You gave us a fright, though. Best avoid that for a while, okay? We in an agreement?”

     “Yeah, absolutely”, Credence answers, relieved. “Are you okay?”

Queenie blinks, surprised, but then, a sunny smile spreads on her lips. “Oh, just jake, hon, don’t worry about me, it’s gettin’ already better, now that the forest is quiet again.”

     “It was so creepy”, Tina huffs, wiping her cheeks with her palm. “Morgana’s sake, I hope we’ll never have to see or hear _that_ again. ‘m probably not gonna sleep for a week.”

     “Yeah, nature’s never been _our_ kinda thing, Teenie”, Queenie agrees cheerfully, passes Tina to hug Credence; her grip is surprisingly strong.

     “See?” she whispers, and Credence can _hear_ her smiling. “Everything worked out. His noodle’s workin’ all proper again, yeah? You were really brave, hon, so brave. ‘s okay now.”

Maybe hearing that, _from her,_ Credence wraps his arms around her and lets his head fall on her shoulder. Violent relief seems to pour from his skin, make his brain dizzy, _foggy,_ he’s just _so grateful -_

     “Yeah”, he says, his voice muffled. “I know. Thank you.”

She pats his cheek gently, her eyes shining. “’Course. You handled that all by yourself.” She fixes his collar. “He was really worried, y’know. When ya got knocked back, he - he _remembered.”_

     “He - he really did, huh?”

     “ _Yeah!_ Normally ‘s hard to get a read on ‘im, but... that day, he was so focused on the fact that he _remembered._ It all just... flooded in. Filled the - the wound, the void. It was _weird,_ but there was no fakin’ it, Credence, there’s no way.”

     “Yeah, I know, I...I’m not worried about that now.”

     “Okay. Good.” She flashes a beaming smile at him, ruffles his hair gently. “I’m so proud of ya, Credence, okay?”

     “Oh. Thank you?” Credence replies, a little flustered, shyly happy with such praise.

Queenie winks at him, tugs his hair again and presses a motherly kiss on his cheek.

It’s okay. It’s _finally_ okay.

+

In the evening, they have a visitor that Credence really should’ve seen coming.

     ”Hello, laddie.”

It’s Mrs. Colton. She’s sitting primly in the Golstein kitchen, twirls a steaming teacup in her spindly hands and flashes a kind smile at Credence, who is too busy gawking at her in surprise.

     ”Yeah, uh, hi? Are you okay, Mrs. Colton?” he asks nervously. Are the faes back, maybe? The Lady attacked in wronged fury and bitterness? But the older woman nods briskly.

     ”Yes, yes, very good, Mr. Bane, can’t complain, at all. My Maggie is all well and good, did you hear?” she asks, excited.

     ”Uh, yeah, Newt told me. That’s great news, ma’am, I’m happy for you. She all right?”

     ”Completely back to her old self, joking and cracking cheeky remarks, my Maggie!” Mrs. Colton beams at him. ”And no specters either... though Mr. Scamander urges us to move from the Hall - which is just fine in my books, really. Needed that push to be honest with you. We’re moving to London!”

She’s obviously expecting a grand response to that, but Credence is just utterly relieved that everything’s going to be all right.

     ”Wow, that’s great! Good for you, ma’am.”

     ”Thank you, lad. You’re good sort, you know? Scared me half to death, runnin’ out like the way you did... but you two gents kept your word. Got no argument or complain, and you’ve earned every piece of your reward.”

Credence’s embarrassed. ”We just wanted to help, ma’am, we didn’t do it for money.”

     ”That makes you the good sort, you know”, Mrs. Colton counters with a twinkle in her eye. She certainly looks more lively and happy than the last time Credence’s seen her. ”Happy to pay you for all of that.”

     ”You - you’ll stay out of the woods, right?” Credence dares to ask - maybe she thinks he’s a lunatic, but he has to make sure, despite everything.

But for a muggle, she doesn’t blink, doesn’t startle.

     ”You can believe that. I’ve learnt my lesson, even though it took eighteen years to learn.” She stirs her teacup. ”Just silly superstition, and me thinking there would be no repercussions with a silly wish like that. There are no shortcuts, there’s always a price, that I’ve learnt. Stupid foolish mistakes, back then. But...they seemed to have kept her alive, with us, so... I think we are well enough.”

She eyes him, and then, bursts out laughing. “Oh, don’t look so surprised! I might not know what strange things go around in our world, but I do know local legends and stories. They are not so far-fetched, when you piece the whole picture together. Dangerous things, these were... so, thank you, Mr. Bane.”

     ”Really, you should not be thankin’ us so much, ma’am - ”

     ”On the contrary. I should. I was not in danger, like you were. So...thank you.”

     ”...you’re welcome, Mrs. Colton. Hope you’re gonna be happy in London.”

     ”I think we will be”, Mrs. Colton nods, with a content smile. “It is a good start.”

That’s more than any of them can ask, really.

+

Newt finds him on their porch.

Late autumn sun paints the meadows and the nearby woods red and gold. The air is cool, crisp. Next night’s probably gonna be freezing, Credence thinks, watching dreamily the shadows, the heavy light.

_It feels good to be home again._

     ”Here, love.”

Newt wraps a woollen blanket on Credence’s thin shoulders, presses a gentle kiss on Credence’s temple and sits beside him. He’s a solid, safe warmth, like a furnace, thinks Credence and leans against him. He smells of home; cotton, lemon, like his workshop.

     ”‘s pretty out here”, Credence murmurs, resting his head on Newt’s shoulder.

     ”Mmh.” Newt nuzzles Credence’s raven hair. ”Shall we go inside?”

     ”Yeah, in a minute. ‘s starting to turn red, see?”

     ”Mmh, very lovely.”

But he’s not looking at the sunset; no, his hazel, light eyes are completely fixed on Credence’s profile, slowly adoring, whole-hearted and pure.

     ”Oh, stop”, Credence mutters, bowing his head down shyly.

     ”You are very lovely, dear. And I missed you.”

     ”I missed you, too.”

The sun sets; paints the landscape in dim, diminishing light. Gold and red turn into faint yellow, then green, then dark blue.

Credence reaches over to kiss Newt; slow and sweet like honey. Newt nips playfully, _lightly_ Credence’s bottom lip, smiling into it, against Credence’s mouth, pressing deeper into wet warmth.

Their tongues meet, slide, the kiss turns into a sensual dance; they know each step, every push and pull, hands slowly running on the contours of their chests, to their clavicles, skin against skin, brushing, stroking, _pulling in._

Newt’s hand drifts lower, his thumb pressing firmly against Credence’s hip bone, then slowly play with the hem of Credence’s shirt.

     “C’mon”, Credence whispers, tilting his head so his neck is bare to Newt. Newt’s eyes darken at the sight of long, pale expanse of it.

     “Oh, no sunset anymore, dear?” he teases gently, but his voice has dropped an octave deeper.

Credence presses his nose against Newt’s temple. “It’s set already.” Somehow it almost sounds like a _whine_ from him. Credence doesn’t really _care._

     “Oh, really?”

     “Yeah, well, wow, aren’t you _sassy.”_

     “Just a little bit, forgive me.” Newt hoists Credence up and sets him in his lap; Credence straddles his hips with practised ease and locks his arms around Newt’s neck. Newt grins, soft adoration shining from his light gaze. “Hello.”

Credence grins back just as softly. “Hi.”

He plays absent-mindedly with Newt’s collar; Newt’s lost his bowtie, completely at ease here in just loose trousers and shirt even though it’s a bit chilly out now.

Newt closes the distance between them; the kiss unravels them slowly, they drown into each other’s sweet warmth, _hunger,_ longing. Credence angles his head again, meeting Newt in the middle.

This is how it’s supposed to be, Newt and Credence, _together._

Newt adjusts Credence’s position in his lap and suddenly stands up; he falters slightly under Credence’s weight, tightening his hold around him.

     “Hey, wait a minute, _Newt_ \- “

     “May I?”

     “Yeah, I mean _sure,_ but are you sure it’s okay - ?”

     “Are you perhaps suggesting that I can’t carry you upstairs?” Newt asks, amused. “You aren’t heaviest I’ve carried, dear.”

     “Yeah, sure, _but - “_ Credence gives up. Newt obviously has no intention to let him go just yet, and Credence finds it hard to argue with him. “Okay.”

Newt’s eyes crinkle playfully, laughter lines deepening around the edges, and leans in to nudge his forehead against Credence’s. It’s just a fleeting moment of intimacy they’ve missed to _painfully._

Newt carries Credence upstairs to their bedroom; their pictures in places, their clothes neatly folded away, their things, quills, parchments, notebooks, scattered on the nightstands.

In the sanctuary of their own room, their mouths crash together again; red desire sparks in their veins again into liquid fire. They kiss fiercely, hungrily, deeper and _deeper,_ trying to _become one_ \- they cling onto each other like they are lost in a storm, limbs wrapped and tangled, desperate for skin against _skin._

That night they make love; exploring intimately every inch of each other’s bodies, rocking and aligned, in beautiful sync. With every breathless gasp, every tilt of hips, arched backs, fingers digging into Newt’s shoulder blades, they sink deeper.

     “ _\- oh, oh - “_

     “You are everything _,_ you are so _gorgeous - darling -_ just a bit more - “

White-hot pleasure _boils,_ explodes, spreads, wash them relaxed and _lazy,_ and in burned satisfaction, they trade languid, slow kisses.

Newt tilts Credence’s head gently, brushing his thumb across Credence’s cheek.

     “Are you all right...?”

     “Mmh... don’t pull out yet, please...”

     “I won’t.”

They lie together; joined by the hips, legs tangled, fingers intertwined, noses nuzzling familiar skin.

Credence turns his head to look at Newt; he’s completely, absolutely bare to Newt; all of his feelings, his imperfections, his _love_ naked for all to see and Newt looks back, warmly, _adoring and gentle._ Seeing, understanding, throwing himself fully in the same storm and tranquillity.

Newt’s fingers reach to stroke Credence’s hair.

     “I love you”, he murmurs against Credence’s mouth. “So much.”

     “I love you, too”, Credence breathes, running his thumb on Newt’s lower lip. “With everything I have.”

It’s their happiness.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DOOOOONE! :D  
> I've never published anything so long in English, and it's probably full of plot holes and exposition, but I've finally finished this, and I'm so happy and relieved.   
> Kind of excited I've done this. 
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone, who has read this, left a comment and kudos, your support has been so amazing and invaluable to me. Seriously, thank you. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this, feedback's always welcome! Please tell me if you see any grammar mistakes or if I use idioms wrong or something like that (not a native speaker here!)  
> Thank you for reading! <3


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